


Would You Hold It Against Me

by deliriumbubbles



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:39:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 49,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deliriumbubbles/pseuds/deliriumbubbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Warblers discover that they and McKinley will be doing the same musical during the fall semester. After a spot of espionage against their rival school McKinley, new Warbler Sebastian finds himself fascinated by one of the young auditioners… and unintentionally becoming the Warblers’ nefarious leader.</p><p>AN: Some canon events apply, but the order will be changed to a more breathable timeline than the borked up version than the show offered. In this timeline Kurt does NOT come in for a second audition with Rachel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Sebastian**

 

“We could do a different show?” Trent suggested.

 

Nick kicked back, putting his feet on the table in the middle of the room, earning himself a scowl from Wes. “I don’t see why _we_ should have to change _our_ show. We’re the ones who have to clear _everything_ with the Dalton board of directors, _as well as_ the board for Crawford Country so we can have a girl Maria. We got the go-ahead to do this _last year._ We did all that fu- _frickin’_ paperwork. Let _them_ change theirshow.”

 

“It’s all right.” David put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I know it feels as though they are starting the competition early with us, but there are simply a limited number of school musicals that parents will be okay with in a conservative area.”

 

The other boys nodded in agreement as David spoke. He continued: “Furthermore, I remember Kurt talking about how their show got shut down last year, and collapsed on itself the year before. They probably want a safe choice, just to make sure they don’t have to close before they open again.”

 

“Their show last year was _Rocky Horror_ ,” Wes said tersely. “It was a poor decision to begin with.”

 

“Yeah, but...” Trent shrugged. “That wasn’t _their_ decision. That was their director’s choice. This time, Kurt and Rachel chose the musical. And Kurt left before we’d put in our plans to do _West Side Story_. He wouldn’t do this to us on purpose.”

 

“I’m not saying he did,” Nick said a bit irritably. “But Blaine didn’t officially leave until the first week this semester. He knows _exactly_ what we planned to do for our fall musical, and our spring musical, and our set lists for our invitational, sectionals, and regional performances. His abandoning us, _especially_ after promising that he wasn’t going to, has really fucked us over.”

 

Wes gave Nick a look, and Nick rolled his eyes. 

 

“Sorry. He really _fricked_ us.”

 

Sebastian crossed one leg over the other and rubbed his upper lip slowly with his index finger. When the Warblers had called this emergency meeting, Sebastian had wondered first if the group pulled their members out of class often (he had a GPA to maintain here) and second, whether histrionics were common among their members. While this did seem like a troubling development for them competitively speaking, it was hardly insurmountable to change up their set lists within the amount of time they had before their first real competition. As for the invitational, who cared? It wasn’t a competition. They didn’t have to be the most _original_ , just intimidating to any rivals who had the gall to show up and check them out.

 

Still... If their group was this raucously unstable now, Sebastian wondered if it would truly be the best use of his time to be a mere member of the group. At least, not without some changes made.

 

“I just can’t believe he’d do this to us,” Trent muttered. A few other boys groused around him.

 

“Is a high school musical really such a _dire_ circumstance?” Sebastian asked, his voice carrying through the room. The others turned, likely not expecting his input. He had spent the first few weeks of the semester gauging their skill and how they worked as a group. That meant being on his best behavior, even if it galled him to do so.

 

“It isn’t,” David agreed evenly. “But we considered Blaine...” He tilted his head to the side. “We had arranged _all_ of our performances for this year around him as a lead. We were counting on him.”

 

“He _betrayed_ us,” Trent said. “For _Kurt_. The musical is just... on top of all everything.”

 

“No… He wants to go to Nationals,” Nick said, shaking his head. “We did everything we could to keep him, but he knows the New Directions have a better chance of winning.”

 

“Even so.” Trent’s shoulders slumped over. “He could’ve _told Kurt_ what we were doing and gotten him to do something else. Kurt would do anything Blaine asked.”

 

“Well, that sounds like a _boring_ relationship,” Sebastian drawled.

 

Nick chuckled and shook his head. A few others looked scandalized. Sebastian shrugged. 

 

“If they have all this intel on us, I move that we get some on them. You have tapes of former competitions, I trust? And it wouldn’t be hard for us to send a few of our members to check out what they’ve got going on with regards to talent this year.” Sebastian spread his hands. “We have set lists to revise, and _they_ are going to be holding auditions sometime soon. My bet is that their top players will be showing their stuff for the play.”

 

“They _did_ start the whole espionage thing,” David said, flashing a warm smile at Wes. Wes, who had seemed grumpy during the whole meeting-- well... since Sebastian had _met_ him-- smiled as though they were sharing an inside joke.

 

“They would recognize us, though,” Nick pointed out. 

 

“They wouldn’t recognize _me_ ,” Sebastian countered. He looked at his nails and frowned, then back up at the rest of the club members. “And, unlike those try-hard public school glee clubbers, I have _years_ of formal training. You can be sure I’ll pick out our most likely competition.”

 

\---

 

Sebastian would regret his first power move for the Warblers before the end of the week. As it turned out, he was right about the auditions coming up soon, and it wasn’t hard to figure out where in the school they would be held, and at what time. The McKinley kids talked on Facebook about the club and their individual dramas constantly. And in between the new “Booty Camp” for their anemic dance skills and regular practices, they would be holding auditions.

 

To be perfectly honest (and Sebastian liked to be, loudly if possible), the showing at the auditions wasn’t particularly impressive. Most of the kids just stood there and sang. The girls trying out for Maria either parked it or pranced around the stage with an embarrassingly jaunty rendition of “I Feel Pretty.” The one girl who chose to do “Somewhere” started too big, leaving herself nowhere to go, until she was practically yelling the lyrics. And that was saying nothing about the ridiculous mugging she made through the song, scrunching her eyes closed and then then pretending to be surprised by her own loudness.

 

Clearly, at McKinley, loud equaled good, if the directors’ reactions were any indication. But their good wasn’t that good, and their emotional range was... lacking. They also, for the most part, didn’t seem to have any sense of how to choose a proper audition song. Either they chose something inappropriate for their character, or they chose a song from the musical itself and sang it wrong. Sebastian felt chagrined to be part of a group that had _lost_ to this ragtag band of half-trained pretenders.

 

The things his ears suffered through for the sake of social mobility.

 

Up in the balcony area on the right side of the auditorium, Sebastian stretched his back, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. Though, it was unlikely anyone could see him from the stage, given the lights, and the directors were facing away from him. The directors rose (with the boy carried by the big teacher), apparently taking a break, and Sebastian took the time to sit on the floor (ugh, so dirty) and scribble his notes for each audition. Really, so far, he’d not seen anyone worth being concerned about, and the Warblers’ golden boy hadn’t even performed yet.

 

He heard a screeching noise and lifted his head up to see three students carrying a large, metal scaffolding onto the stage.

 

“Lift it up a little more?” a tense, high voice asked. 

 

One of the students was gigantically tall, another a heavyset but powerful looking girl with glasses, and the third, a boy clearly dressed as Tony. Sebastian could see his snug black pants and white shirt, and the little scarf (black, red, and... gold, perhaps?) tied around his neck reminiscent of the part. Granted, one shouldn’t dress as the character for an audition, but these directors were so unprofessional, and so many of the auditioners had gotten away with just singing songs from the show, that Sebastian doubted the directors would notice or care.

 

The scaffolding was interesting, though. What was he going to _do_ with it? Sebastian looked again and noticed that he was also wearing some fingerless gloves. Fashion or function?

 

When the apparatus was in place, the boy thanked his two friends. The girl told him to kick some ass, and the tall boy hugged the smaller around the shoulders with one arm. His boyfriend, maybe? Sebastian frowned. Was this one overcompensating for lack of talent with gimmicks? Or was he going to _use_ the scaffolding? Sebastian could imagine why a Jet would want to demonstrate a bit of gymnastic ability...

 

A few minutes later, the judges and the band returned, and the boy came back to the stage, placed his left hand on his hip, and, a little breathlessly, announced: 

 

“Hello. I’m Kurt Hummel. And I’ll be auditioning for the role of Tony, the male lead.”

 

“That’s _great_ Kurt!” said one of the directors. The perky one, perhaps a teacher?

 

“I’ll be performing the seminal, and in my case, semi-autobiographical Broadway classic, ‘The Greatest Star’ from _Funny Girl_.”

 

Sebastian snorted softly in amusement. _Finally, a break from feeling “pretty,” and inappropriate pop auditions._

 

“Isn’t that a Streisand song?” another director asked.

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes at the teacher’s tone. This school had really scraped the bottom of all their rocks to dig up these teachers.

 

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kurt said, “But I got written permission from the woman herself, Ms. Rachel Berry.”

 

Sebastian paused for a moment, then wrote, _Other members defer to Berry, despite her poor technique. Pecking order? Rich parents?_

 

“Oh! And I’d also like to thank Cassius from my dad’s tire shop-” Kurt bounced around a little as he spoke, then pointed to the metal structure beside him. “-for kindly constructing my audition scaffolding.”

 

Sebastian blinked, then wrote that down entirely. It was amusing, the oddity of a kid from greasemonkey origins singing Streisand. Who knew the backgrounds of most of these public school urchins. The likelihood that this kid had any training whatsoever was about nil, if the other members were as abysmal as they’d shown today.

 

“Start already,” Sebastian grumbled quietly.

 

“Okay, whenever you’re ready,” said the director in the middle. It seemed he also thought Kurt needed to zip it and just sing.

 

Kurt went over to the scaffolding and positioned himself on one of the lower rungs. Almost forgetting himself, Sebastian leaned forward to see what Kurt Hummel would do. 

 

The music started lightly, and Kurt began to sing. “I’m! The greatest star! I am by _far_! But no one knooows it.”

 

At first, Sebastian’s instinct was to write down mocking notes about the pitch of Kurt’s voice, how he held his body, _everything_... But Kurt kept moving, and changing, and Sebastian got the impression that the moment he blinked he would miss something. Now pouting, now hanging on the scaffolding, now making a flute call, now pumping his fist by his side. This wasn’t the out of the gate belting that some of the more polished performers here preferred, or the lazy standard renditions. It was just... different.

 

It wasn’t strictly dance choreography either, but it _was_ very well planned. Tony and the other Jets did tend to flip around on the scenery (especially Tony, in the balcony scene), and Kurt seemed perfectly comfortable climbing around, swinging to the side of the scaffolding, and moving to the opposite end, without taking a pause to breathe. Sebastian’s eyes widened as Kurt flipped upside down... and _kept singing_. Without a single hitch in his breath. Then he twisted his legs into another rung, hung off the side, and posed with one hand to his head, and dropped off the scaffolding to take center stage.

 

“When you’re gifted, then you’re gifted!” Kurt declared, emphasizing the point with his hands. “These are _facts_ , I’ve got no axe to griiiiind!” 

 

Kurt’s voice soared out through the auditorium as he literally reached for the sky, and Sebastian could feel his yearning. For the first time, Sebastian was starting to feel a little intimidated.

 

“Hey! Whattaya blind?! In all of the world so far! I’m the greatest star!”

 

Sebastian quickly scribbled,  _Watch out for Kurt!!_

 

The music changed suddenly. Unlike some of the others, Kurt wasn’t using the full song. He walked downstage as the music began to build, and then turned and strolled toward them again, singing in a light, effortless tenor, “I’m the greatest staaar. I am by faaaar, and no one knows it...”

 

A shiver ran up Sebastian’s spine. He could barely make out the details of what Kurt looked like from here, but his _voice._ He hadn’t started like a powerhouse, but the longer he sang, the more Sebastian became wrapped up in Kurt’s boundless energy and clear, unique voice. He had no doubt that Kurt had already out-sung everyone who had auditioned so far-

 

But then Kurt began to move again, and blood rushed to Sebastian’s face as the tempo picked up and Kurt swung around the bars, singing and kicking in time to the music. 

 

“I’ll light up like a light! Right up like a light! I’ll flicker and flare up!” He grabbed the bar above his head and began circling around. “Oh, the world’s gonna stare up!” He began to ascend the scaffolding. “Lookin’ down you’ll never see me! Try the sky-- That’ll be _me!”_

 

At the top of the scaffolding Kurt flung his arms out and caught himself in the nick of time. “I can make ‘em cry!” Shook himself. “I can make ‘em sigh!”

 

Then he dropped down, as his voice lowered into a deep, _resonant_ tone. “Some day they’ll clamor for my draaam-er!”

 

Sebastian’s notepad dropped from his hand, and he felt a tight tug in his pants. “Christ,” he muttered, his heart surging in his chest.

 

Triumphantly, Kurt returned to the ground for his finale, and oh, what a finale it was. A boy walked by with a set of sai swords, which Kurt picked up and began twirling without missing a beat. And he continued twirling, faster and faster, one hand, then the other, and then both, as he finished out the song with an effortless high note.

 

Technically speaking, this was the strongest part of the number. Sebastian acknowledged that there were a few rough sections toward the beginning, but Kurt’s voice in the middle and the end of the song, as it moved away from the jokes and affectation that the beginning of the number required became a clear, powerful instrument that left Sebastian as breathless as Kurt had seemed to be at the beginning.

 

However, those nerves had been utterly unwarranted. And the way Kurt’s voice lowered... Sebastian needed to take a break. This one could be a threat to them. Sebastian slipped out of the auditorium where the directors were cheering and clapping, as well as a few of the band members now that they were done playing. He went to call Trent.

 

\---

 

Sebastian’s heart still pounded a little when he thought back on that audition. There was no doubt in his mind now that Kurt Hummel would be McKinley’s Tony. Who else was going to get up on stage and not only prove that he had the vocal range to slay “Somewhere” and “Maria,” but also that he had the athletic ability to work the scenery and the skill with weapons to pull off the fight scenes? None of the other boys who had auditioned, that was for certain.

 

Sitting around the room with the Warblers, now that he’d seen the auditions, particularly _that_ one, was almost uncomfortable. 

 

“So as you can see from my notes,” Sebastian said as he handed the synopsis of his conclusions out to each member, “Even their strongest members use too many tricks and aren’t comfortable singing and performing at the same time. The ones who can dance don’t sing as well, particularly Mike Chang, who was flat for most of his performance, and Brittany Pierce, who has difficulty breathing like a singer instead of a dancer. Berry sings everything like Barbra Streisand, and I’m getting the impression that she never moves if she doesn’t have to-- she should be in their after school dance class, but isn’t-- and the other members bow to her. Santana Lopez has a middling talent we should keep an eye on, powered by some skill and mostly charisma, and Mercedes Jones has the best voice of everyone there, but didn’t make any effort for showmanship either, although her excellent breath control suggests she probably has more stamina than her size suggests.”

 

He paused to frown at his notes. “The one we’d better watch is Kurt Hummel. You’ll see my comments on the nature of his performance. The strengths, which were many, and the few weaknesses he still has, probably due to poor or nonexistent training from their director. If they feature him, we’d better be prepared to pull out all the stops.”

 

The others skimmed over the sheet as he talked, and then were quiet for a moment. 

 

“Kurt? Really?” Nick said.

 

“I was going to say,” Jeff echoed. “I never got the impression he was much of a threat.”

 

“He can flip around like a spider monkey and handle weaponry without even a second of a hitch in his singing. He’s a tremendous multi-tasker on stage, and his range is incredible,” Sebastian said flatly. “He _could_ use some work on his diction, and there’s an edge to his higher register-- I haven’t decided whether or not it’s _pleasant_ , but... Of all the boys, he was the most impressive.”

 

“Isn’t he just a counter-tenor, though?” Wes asked. Trent frowned.

 

“There was nothing ‘just’ about his vocals,” Sebastian replied. This was a bit confusing. Hadn’t they had use of Hummel for their entire competition season the previous year? Hadn’t he been on their list of featured singers? “If you mean, does he only sing high? Well, no, he had some very impressive moments in his lower range as well, and he switches very smoothly between registers. I don’t think the competition judges will care that he _talks_ like Mickey Mouse, since he won’t be introducing anyone.”

 

“That’s interesting,” David said. “I wish we’d been able to get the AV equipment in time for you to record the performances for us.”

 

Did they really _not_ believe him?

 

“So what about Blaine? You barely mention _him_ here,” Wes said. “He did ‘Something’s Coming’?”

 

Sebastian shrugged. “I don’t remember much from it. He was _flat_ most of the time. Held his hands out a lot. No real dancing choreography to speak of. He did read for Tony afterward, but I got up to take a break.”

 

The other Warblers stared at Sebastian as though he had grown another head. And that head had lobsters coming out of its ears.

 

“ _What_?”

 

“You didn’t _like_ his performance?” Wes said, with a near laugh.

 

“It was typical, and boring. And again, a bit out of tune. A lot of pointing. Little range, no creativity, and none of the emotional nuance you need for Tony. Not that many of the New Directions members had that, by the way. I’d say Jones and Hummel do. Lopez is intense, but unfocused. The level of anger was inappropriate for her song. Maybe she was bleeding that day.” Sebastian crossed his arms and shrugged. “I don’t think we need to be worried. By Regionals, we should have an entirely new set list, and _if_ they survive Sectionals, we should be able to take care of them easily.”

 

There was a silence. And then:

 

“Did you _really_ not like Blaine?” Trent asked. “He was practically our front man last year.”             

 

Sebastian heaved a sigh and tried not to sprain his eyes rolling them. “He’s _mediocre_ ,” he snapped. “If he was your lead man last year, I’m not surprised that you _lost_. _I’m_ ten times better than him. If those are your qualifications, you should make _me_ your front man.”

 

Sebastian’s words had been flippant, but the other Warblers seemed to take him seriously, looking between each other and murmuring. 

 

“But what about the Council?” said Elton, a boy with dreadlocks who spent his time in the back of the room.

 

“If we had a single captain, it wouldn’t take _forever_ to get stuff passed through the administration,” Nick said. “We work up all these great songs, and then they tell us no, you can’t do Beyoncé, for some stupid reason. If we had one person just go up with one list for approval, that would make _everything_ so much easier.”

 

“But this isn’t a dictatorship,” Wes argued.

 

“No, it’s a Wesocracy,” Nick muttered.

 

Wes turned to Nick with fire in his eyes. “Ex _cuse_ me?” 

 

“Oh, sorry, did you forget your gavel today?”

 

Sebastian raised his brows and watched the group unravel. He’d caused chaos before, and truth be told, some part of it was incredibly enjoyable, but it had never been this _easy._ Were they so unstable without their favorite to lead them? And Blaine Anderson, of all people... Sebastian barely remembered his audition. There were no highs or lows to the song, just this blunt (but weak) force hitting the whole song in the same way until he ramped up the volume at the end.

 

Sebastian remembered more how his attention had drifted as he saw the light flickering off of something in the other wing of the balcony. He couldn’t be sure at first, but it had been Kurt Hummel up there. His jacket had shiny studs on it, and although he had still been far away, from up there, Sebastian could see a firm jawline and cheekbones as high as the sky.

 

_Is he really dating this snarling, flat-assed, out of tune whelp straining for his high note on the stage?_ Sebastian had wondered, captivated by the soft smile on Hummel’s face.

 

Then the directors asked Blaine to read for Tony, and that smile had faded, and Kurt slipped away. Sebastian had left then as well, not really wanting to hear any more. Blaine’s incapacity for pitch, and in all honesty, his utter blandness, had left a taste in Sebastian’s mouth as sour as the end of that final note.

 

As Sebastian returned his focus to the Warblers, he realized they were now all looking to him. 

 

“So. You say you’re better than Blaine was?” Wes asked.

 

“Cookie Monster’s better than Blaine.” Sebastian slipped his hands into his pockets casually. “But I was trained by a world renowned vocal coach in my formative years, and I’ve played Baby John in _West Side Story_ , as well as Kenickie in _Grease_ andWarner in _Legally Blonde,_ and have won a _few_ singing competitions.” 

 

“Then... sing for us,” Wes ordered.

 

“Pardon?” Sebastian tilted his head forward.

 

“Give us an audition piece that’s better than Blaine, and we’ll vote right now whether or not you’ll be our captain.”

 

Sebastian tried very hard not to be caught off guard at any point in his life. While he had intended to maneuver his way up the ranks here, he’d never imagined he’d have the chance to do so this quickly. He swallowed, nodded briefly, and then rose, trying to think of which audition piece to use. He’d auditioned during the first week of school, of course, but everyone had, and those pieces had been chosen for them to assess basic technical quality.

 

While his go-to audition wouldn’t be Streisand, Sebastian had quite a few Broadway numbers prepared that showcased his voice, the broadness of his tone, the depth of what he could portray. However, he suspected a group that worshipped Blaine Anderson would require a different approach.

 

He did a turn in place, stepped one leg out as he snapped his fingers, and lifted his chin. 

 

“I’m bringin’ sexy back,” he sang.

 

 


	2. Chapter Two

**Kurt**

 

Halfway down the balcony stairs, Kurt wondered if he ought to listen Blaine read the script... His feet didn’t stop moving, however. He was urged on by disappointment and frustration, and his curiosity, for once, was more than sated. It was sated so much he felt _nauseated_. 

 

Was there any _winning_ for him now? If Kurt got the part, Blaine would be _insufferable_ in his loss. Even worse, he’d never admitted to really _wanting_ it in the first place; just promised he would go for another part and proceeded to sing the quintessential Tony song, anyway. So the likelihood of Kurt’s being able to enjoy the play over the sheer _loudness_ of Blaine’s passive aggressive suffering was pretty infinitesimal.

 

If Kurt _didn’t_ get the part (and he still wasn’t convinced Ms. Pillsbury, Artie, and Coach Beiste had other _real_ options in that venue), then he _didn’t get the part_. He would have nothing to put on his college applications.

 

Well. Not _nothing_. But not as much as the lead vocalist of three years, she who was in practically every club possible, she who had been _handed_ the lead last year, and technically the year before, if one could call the fiasco that had been _Cabaret_ _á la McKinley_ an actual production. 

 

Kurt intended to list his role as Riffraff as a workshop line on his C.V. He still had the commercial from his sophomore year, French club, his season on the Cheerios, and his time at his father’s shop. But it still wouldn’t be enough to make him stand out, when compared to the applicants whose parents had been able to spoil them in the arts and spare no expense in singing, dancing, and acting lessons. He hated that all of this came down to scrabbling for a role, just to have something that proved to potential schools that his years until now had meaning. 

 

There had been a lot of reasons for Kurt not to take the spotlight until now. Predominantly, his father’s health, the safety of others around him, his own survival and sanity. And no matter how much his friends seemed to think that things should be easy now, they weren’t. They just weren’t.

 

Kurt strolled down the hallway and leaned back against his locker. His audition had gone well. There had been cheering and excitement from the judges, _and_ the band. His reading was strong, too, even if he’d heard a few stifled chuckles from one of the three directors up there. The moment he’d heard the laugh, Kurt had just blocked the noise out. He already knew the scene well enough to fix his eyes on Ms. Pillsbury and pretend he was talking to Maria, with no prying eyes around.

 

He’d been tempted, after the audition, after Santana’s ugly words directed at him over those shamefully awful campaign posters, to try to do something more to cement his position in the eyes of his teachers, and Artie. But ultimately, he knew that it shouldn't be necessary. 

 

And Kurt wasn’t an anxious, chubby fifteen year old anymore. He might not stand a chance in the race for class president against the cheerleaders who thought they could keep him as a pet gay and then scold him when he didn’t perform to their standards, but he could _definitely_ hold his own among any of the members of New Directions when it came to competing for a male lead like Tony. His only real competition might have been _Artie_ , vocally speaking, but Artie was the director already, and he wasn’t as good a dramatic actor as Kurt was, anyway.

 

No, right now Kurt felt less threatened and more dismayed. He knew from his experience with Blaine, both during their time together as Warblers and over the summer, that Blaine was not even the slightest bit a good loser. In July, they had both tried out for the Shakespeare festival, and while Kurt had been offered a spot, Blaine hadn’t even made the _understudy_ list. 

 

In the end, Kurt had been forced to pull out of the performance, just to keep their relationship from unraveling. But Kurt wouldn’t give in, this time. He’d done his very best to prevent them from having to compete with one another, and he needed to get more experience on his resume, and quickly. If he hadn’t given up that spot in the festival, he would be in a _much_ more secure place now.

 

Kurt thought for half a second about meeting Blaine at the stage door. Then, he shook his head and walked resolutely out to his car. He didn’t feel like dealing with the conversation they needed to have. 

 

\---

 

That evening, Kurt finished his homework quickly to the noises of Finn grumbling around the kitchen. Afterward, he got on the computer to check his email and compose a to-do list for his college applications. 

 

Kurt bit his lip, adding to his bulleted list the essays he would need to complete and the letters of recommendation he needed to request. He could probably get one from Mr. Schue without much effort, and the French teacher Madam Johnson, but this was still a limited pool to draw from. Since his dad was the only boss he’d ever worked for, Kurt couldn’t get a work reference there. Could Cassius write him a letter, instead?

 

At the rap on the doorframe, Kurt turned to see Finn hanging in the doorway. 

 

“Oh, hey. Do you need to use the computer? I was just...” Kurt shook his head. “Trying to figure out how to con someone into accepting me college.”

 

Finn quirked his lips to the side. “Someone’s gonna accept you. Shut up.”

 

Kurt turned and saved his file with a sigh. Maybe he should email the list to himself and keep it on his phone. Daily Kurtspiration.

 

“I just wanted to know how your day was.” Finn grabbed the extra chair by the desk and sat on it backwards. “Rachel said the field for Tony was ‘wide open’.”

 

Kurt frowned and sat back as though struck. “Um... I wouldn’t say that.”

 

“Yeah, it seemed weird. She wants me to be her lead, I guess.”

 

Kurt sucked in his cheeks slightly and looked back at the screen. “That’s probably it. She does have a fondness for the ‘leads in love’ trope.”

 

“I can’t hit those notes, though. It’s not even... I mean, she’s made me see that movie like a thousand times. Tony’s totally out of my range.” 

 

“They could always score it down for you,” Kurt said half-heartedly.

 

Finn shrugged. “Nah. I mean, Rachel won’t shut up about how important this part is for her career, so it’s important for you, too.”

 

Kurt ran his fingers over the keys. “Thank you for acknowledging that.”

 

“You’re my _brother_. And, y’know, I have extracurricular stuff for my resume already. I dunno if I really need another play.” Finn folded his hands. “I’d be kinda a douche to try to take something you needed when it was only something I kinda wanted.”

 

“Yeah... Yeah, you would.” Kurt drew in a deep breath.

 

“You okay? I thought you’d be all buzzy with Blaine going to school with us, but you’re not. Y’seem bummed.”

 

“You’re not that thrilled with his being here,” Kurt said. 

 

“Yeah, well. He acts like he’s just gonna take over, like, by default.” Finn rolled his eyes. 

 

“McKinley’s very different from Dalton. Could you try to cut him some slack?” Kurt held up a hand. “I don’t mean let him walk all over you, or take your place. Just, don’t be mean to my boyfriend, please?”

 

Finn hung his head. “Fiiiine.”

 

“Have you started your college essays yet?” Kurt asked. “I could help you with them, if Rachel hasn’t already. There’s the ever-present prompt about dealing with people different from you on the state apps, and you could write about Glee or the Hudson-Hummel household coming together.”

 

“Huh. Yeah, I guess I could. I’m not a good writer, though.”

 

Kurt gently kicked Finn’s leg. “That’s why you let me give you tips once you’ve got a draft.”

 

“Are you gonna write about the wedding? Or us moving in together?” Finn leaned forward to see the screen.

 

“No... I was think about writing about...” Kurt hesitated. “Um... About Dave. And… all that stuff.”

 

“Ohhh.”

 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll choose something else. But I kind of like what I’d have to say, reflecting on what happened last year, and colleges like you to explain disruptions in your education… school changes, dropping grades. I don’t have a huge range of experiences dealing with people outside of my ‘comfort zone.’ It’s not like hardly any of us have been to other countries. New York was my first time on a plane.”

 

Finn nodded. “Yeah, it’s hard for us kids in Cowtown.”

 

Kurt rose and touched Finn’s shoulder. “Get me a list of the colleges you want to go to, and we’ll have a brainstorm session.”

 

“Okay. Thanks, little brother.”

 

Kurt smiled and left the office. He went into his room and flopped onto his bed to check his phone. No messages from Blaine. A few from Mercedes. She was irritated about how Mr. Schue had talked to her during class that day.

 

_Ignore him,_ Kurt texted. _You’ve got Maria in the bag. We’ll be stars half the day and Booty Camp losers the other half._

 

_We DO have mad chemistry. I’m just tired of him pickin on me. When Finn struggles, Schue coaches him through it, but when I do he acts like I’m failing on purpose._

 

Kurt kicked his legs in the air, trying to think of a response. It was true that Mr. Schue favored students pretty hardcore. And the Booty Camp wasn’t going down well with anyone. Kurt wasn’t that destroyed that he had to do it, even if he felt like the first week had been a waste of his time. 

 

_Prove him wrong. Show him how good you are, and Rachel will just fall behind._ Kurt chewed on the inside of his lip as he waited for her to respond, and then, _It’s not fair that you have to work so much harder to get what you deserve._

 

She replied: _Nope._

 

Then added, _Thanx, tho._

 

Kurt sighed. This was not the magic he’d been hoping for from his senior year. 

 

The next day, Kurt got up early, went through his morning routine, put on some coffee, and shot out of the house with a wave to his groggy father. He needed to hurry to run his errand and still get to school on time.

 

“Morning!” Kurt said cheerfully as he darted into the flower shop on the corner of Main. 

 

Mrs. Delany gave him a wave from behind the counter. “Good morning! Is there anything I can help you find?”

 

“I just wanted to get some roses, maybe? I’m getting them for a friend. She needs a cheer up, and I want to congratulate her on a good audition.”

 

“Oh, well, let me show you some of the pre-arranged sets. They were just cut this morning.” 

 

Kurt took a few minutes selecting from the bouquets and finally left with a large arrangement of yellow roses with accents of red and white ones with red tips. He could see Mercedes’ smile already.

 

Once he’d arrived at school, Kurt made a stop by his locker on the first floor, then took the route by the stairs to access the second floor, where Mercedes would probably be hanging out with Shane.

 

As he bounded up the stairs, with the bouquet behind his back in case Mercedes saw him first, Kurt caught sight of a gray sweater vest with red and white plaid underneath. It was Blaine.

 

“Hi,” Kurt said in a neutral tone.

 

“Yeah. Hey. Having a good morning?”

 

“It’s been okay so far.” Kurt shrugged.

 

“So... cast list goes up on Monday...” Blaine said in a leading tone. He waited as the silence grew, then added, “I’ve been trying not to think about it.”

 

“Well, no point in dwelling.” Kurt took a step up. “We’ve shown them what we can do, and they’ll decide whatever they decide.”

 

“Are you mad?” Blaine frowned down at Kurt.

 

Kurt sighed and lifted his head to see if Mercedes was at the top of the stairs. “Why would I _possibility_ be mad?”

 

Blaine’s lower lip started to push out, but then his brows went up and his mouth dropped open. “Are those... _flowers_? Kurt!” He grinned and gave a soft laugh. “They’re _beautiful!”_

 

“Um, these are-” Kurt looked down at the roses.

 

“You always zig when I think you’re about to zag, and I- I just love that about you.” Blaine reached for the roses.

 

“These are for Mercedes.” Kurt held onto them and climbed a few more steps. “If you want to talk, we can at lunch. I’m busy right now, though. I want to give these to her before class starts.”

 

“Oh. I just thought...” Blaine was frowning again, looking up at Kurt with near irritation. 

 

“I don’t know what _zagging_ you thought I’d be doing. I did catch your audition, though.” Kurt breathed in through his nose and pursed his lips.

 

Blaine’s face took on that slightly guilty expression he’d worn the moment Artie had asked him to read for Tony.

 

“So I guess we could talk about why you felt you had to lie to me.”

 

“I-” Blaine huffed. “I never _lied_ to you.”

 

“You said you would be auditioning for Bernardo and then sang a Tony song for your audition. So. There’s that. If you wanted the role, more than you wanted to support my applications for school, you should’ve said so. The passive aggressive thing I mentioned a few weeks ago was just a joke. I’m not good at hiding what I’m feeling. I’d really prefer if we just told each other our expectations.”

 

“Kurt, I wasn’t expecting them to ask me to read for the part!” Blaine protested.

 

“Then sing _any other_ song. You’re not supposed to go to auditions and sing from the musical anyway. You know that!” Kurt rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I guess I’ve zagged enough for one morning. I really do have to go, and like I said, it’s done. We can hash this out later, okay? I brought us prosciutto and fig sandwiches with fruit salad for lunch, if you want to share.”

 

Kurt could see that Blaine wanted to say more, but Kurt didn’t want to hear any more excuses, or outright lies. Blaine had known what he was doing, trying to put the part of Tony into the directors’ heads without having to say it himself. That was so incredibly manipulative. Kurt didn’t know what to make of it.

 

Had Blaine wanted the part so badly? Or had he just wanted it because Kurt did?

 

When Kurt spotted Mercedes standing by Shane near the railing, he pushed thoughts of his dramatic relationship out of his mind, held up the bouquet, and hurried forward.

 

“Hey, sweetie!” he called.

 

Mercedes looked up. “Oh! Hey, Kurt. Those are gorgeous. Who are they for? Blaine?”

 

“No! For _you_. _Maria_.” Kurt held the flowers straight out until Mercedes took them.

 

“Whoa, man,” Shane said. “You’re gonna make me look bad.”

 

“Sorry about that. I just... I _may_ have been spying on some of the auditions, and I _may_ have seen what you did.” Kurt clutched his bag. “If anyone else gets the role of Maria, Sondheim is going to spin in his grave. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but you were a _maz_ ing.”

 

Mercedes smelled the flowers and beamed. “Kurt, this is so sweet. You didn’t have to do this.”

 

“I knooow. I just thought that you spend enough time not feeling appreciated in Glee club, and you should be.” Kurt swayed back and forth. “I mean, you’ve done as much-- maybe more-- than Mr. Schue has. Giving us vocal training while he was focused on other kids. You’re important to the group, and you’re the best singer in there.”

 

“Don’t tell your bestie Rachel that.”

 

“If she asks, I’m going to tell her _exactly_ what I think of her audition. I always do. If she doesn’t like that, then I guess we have a problem. I’m not trying to be mean, but you don’t get to the top without a balanced amalgam of support and honest critique.”

 

“Yeah, and with how much everyone sucks up to her, she probably _needs_ you to actually give her notes.”

 

“Maybe so.”

 

Mercedes stepped away from Shane and gave Kurt a big hug.

 

“ _That’s_ what I’m talkin’ about. These fools need to know what a star you are,” Shane said.

 

“At least my boy Kurt does.” Mercedes kissed Kurt’s cheek lightly. “What about you? How did your audition go?”

 

“It was good. A little breathy, I think, at the beginning, but otherwise, everything was strong, including the reading.” Kurt sighed as he let her go. “Not that many guys have tried out for Tony. Technically, just me, a tone-deaf basketball player, and Blaine.”

 

Mercedes’ lips formed a circle. “Wait, what? Didn’t Blaine say he _wasn’t_ gonna try out for Tony? I heard that right, right? In Booty Camp?”

 

“Yeah. That’s what he _said_.” Kurt held his thumb and middle finger together on each hand and made a show of taking a deep breath. “I will rise above.”

 

“You should smack _down_ ,” Shane advised. “That’s some punk ass move.”

 

Mercedes laughed.

 

“Why’s he tryin’ to steal your thunder? Seems like he should be all for his man rockin’ the lead,” Shane said.

 

“It’s different, I guess, when you’re both able to try out for the same parts,” Kurt said with a sigh. 

 

“Maybe. But Brittany and Santana don’t fight each other for head cheerleader, even though I know Brittany wanted it, too,” Mercedes said. “I don’t know if they talked it out, or Britt just knew psychically that Santana wanted it more.”

 

Kurt sucked in his cheek. “We’ll see what happens. Until then, you and me have a date after school with some very _basic_ dance moves.”

 

Mercedes groaned and rolled her eyes so hard that her head went back a little. “Alright, alright.” She pressed the flowers to her chest. “Thanks for the pick-me-up, Kurt. I really needed it.”

 

“This too will pass,” Kurt said, starting to walk backwards. He needed to be on the other side of the building for homeroom soon. “And then, we’ll be the school’s queen divas!”

 

He blew a kiss, and Mercedes reciprocated. Shane just smiled and waved. He was a quiet guy, generally, but he seemed nice and he treated Mercedes well, supporting her almost instinctively in her goals outside their relationship. Kurt couldn’t ask for more in a boyfriend for one of his best friends. 

 


	3. Chapter Three

**Sebastian**

 

Sebastian spotted Blaine Anderson before Nick was done with his verse. Sebastian had been leaning back on the piano, watching the boys practicing their footwork (no more white-boy shuffle for the Warblers; now they _all_ had to dance), when his eyes had caught sight of a too tight sweater, with garish stripes, and a clownishly large bow-tie.

 

Sebastian didn’t stop singing his harmony. Nor did he miss his entrance as he came over to the Boy Wonder and grabbed his arm, encouraging him to come over and dance with them. The other Warblers noticed and got excited, a few of them waving Blaine over as well.

 

This was an excellent opportunity.  Blaine had watched long enough to pick up the group part, and Sebastian hadn’t had the chance to see how this overstuffed grandpa danced yet. In all their old competition videos, Blaine had just _wandered_ around the stage on his own, not even dipping from side to side like all the other boys.

 

Sebastian’s voice almost choked in his throat with laughter as Blaine fumbled the side steps and turned half a count late. Not a quick study, then. At that moment, Nick saw Adelaide Braunstein, the teaching assistant for AP English. 

 

_Horndog_ , Sebastian thought, with a bit of approval, as Nick began to saunter forward, and like a phalanx, the Warblers followed him, mimicking his swagger perfectly. 

 

Blaine, on the other hand, looked like he was doing a bit out of The Ministry of Silly Walks. How had this guy gotten leads last year?

 

_Well. They_ ** _lost_** , Sebastian reminded himself.

 

The boys flitted around Adelaide. She had that look. That, “I’m not amused, ignore how my lips are pressed together stifling laughter” look. Nick sang to her, and she playfully stepped backward to the beat. Sebastian was a little impressed as she picked up the footwork and did a turn with the boys. He did his own solo, dancing around her in a circle, with Nick and Gabe on the other side.

 

Eventually, the “not amused” look graduated to the “alright enough” look, and she shooed them away, back into their practice room. 

 

There was really something to Dalton. A _liberté_ that was fairly unknown to the other private schools Sebastian had attended. Not that he hadn’t found ways to have his fun, under the table and behind closed doors. Dalton, however, gave the Warblers leeway to practice during class hours, sometimes taking over ‘quiet time’ (but not classes without prior approval), and their leading members had permission to leave campus during the day. It was a little bizarre, having this much freedom.

 

“You guys killed it!” Blaine said.

 

“We’d sound so much better if you were in the mix!” Trent said. “Is this your triumphant return to Dalton, please?”

 

Sebastian cringed. _God, please, no. What happened to your irritation at his abandoning you?!_

 

“Actually, I’m here to invite you guys to my opening night at McKinley,” Blaine answered.   “West Side Story! I’m gonna reserve a whole block of tickets just for the Warblers. It would mean the world to me if you guys could come.”

 

“We’ll be there,” Sebastian answered for them. “Once a Warbler, always a Warbler, right?”

 

Blaine handed some posters to Jeff, who looked at one and passed it on.

 

“What part will you be playing?” Nick asked.

 

“Oh, um... Tony!” Blaine said with a laugh.

 

Sebastian raised a brow. He knew from his cyber-stalking of the group that the cast list wouldn’t be posted until the next week. It was mighty bold to come to another school and expect them to advertise for your play. Especially when claiming the lead before parts had been given. Though, Sebastian thought, looking at the Roaring 20’s style poster, at least their art department had some talent.

 

As the boys dispersed, apparently not as interested in spending time with their former “leader” as they had seemed, Sebastian introduced himself to Blaine, and vice versa. Then, casting an eye back at his less than confident flock, Sebastian led Blaine out to one of the quiet rooms to have a chat.

 

So the famous Blaine Anderson, he who spilled set lists, had come back to Dalton for some praise and support. Was Wonder Boy not getting the worshipful attention that he required at McKinley? Sebastian knew just what to do.

 

“So you’re a legend at Dalton,” Sebastian said, just an edge of teasing in his voice. 

 

Blaine dipped his head slightly.

 

“Don’t be modest,” he said in his gentlest voice. “I was like, I don’t know who this Blaine guy is, but apparently he’s sex on a stick and sings like a dream. So... sucks that I missed ‘im.”

 

Blaine waved a hand and covered his eyes. But he was loving it. Eating it _up._ And that was hardly the best line Sebastian had ever come up with.

 

When Blaine didn’t respond right away, Sebastian continued, keeping his eyes fixed on Blaine, giving Blaine the sense that he was under the doting gaze of one of his former Warbler devotees. “Alright. So since I’m working to recreate your meteoric ascent, I need to ask. Why did you leave Dalton? Had you become bored with all the preppies around here? Or was it that you had broken too many hearts to stay?”

 

Moment of truth. Sebastian waited, gauging Blaine’s expression. Blaine seemed torn. Then he laughed.

 

“It wasn’t like that. Let’s just say...” Blaine hesitated. “I miss Dalton every day, but... McKinley is where my heart is now.”

 

Sebastian almost slipped. He almost frowned, almost gaped. He’d been expecting Blaine to bring up Kurt, not to omit his boyfriend’s very existence. Sebastian stared at Blaine, his lips curved slightly to the side. He tilted his head, asking this, asking that, trying to lead Blaine to tell more about himself... not a word. Not a single word about the boyfriend he’d left Dalton for. 

 

Had they broken up? That would’ve made sense, given the dubious nature of the match to begin with, but it hadn’t happened yet, according to Sebastian’s last look at the McKinley group’s Facebook pages.

 

“Well, I came here because my parents missed me.” Sebastian shook his head and sighed. “My last school was abroad. You know, boarding school in England. Or more or less boarding. My grandparents live there, and I was able to hop over to France and Spain on holidays. It’s so... mundane, being back in Ohio after spending time with European boys, you know?”

 

Blaine’s eyes lit up.

 

Blaine seemed friendly now. Inviting. Interested, _leading._ While Blaine related a truly boring story about singing at a theme park during the summer, Sebastian tried to decide what to do with this fickle, faithless fool.

 

And in that moment, his second huge scheme was hatched. Sebastian hadn’t chosen to take over the Warblers until the situation had presented itself. Now the situation presented was a boy he could _easily_ lead to be an unwitting spy on the competition. The New Directions posted a lot of their drama online, but not their songs (it seemed their set lists had been maliciously leaked at previous competitions). Blaine, however, _only_ spent time thinking about what he said when he was clearly trying to find a way _not_ to mention his boyfriend. Everything else spilled out easily and without much self-awareness.

 

Sebastian wondered how quickly he could get this pretender into bed. Not that Sebastian was hurting in that area. Westerville only had two gay clubs, but that was enough, not to mention the boys on the track and lacrosse teams. That was a benefit of going to an all boys’ school. Especially one that barred girls from being in the dormitories, but provided no restrictions on boys visiting one another’s rooms, as long as “quiet hours” were respected. (Unless the Warblers were running through the hallways singing.)

 

“I have to go. Lacrosse practice,” Sebastian said finally, once their coffees had grown cold. “But... could we meet again?” He watched Blaine’s expression carefully. “I could _really_ use some insights from you, Blaine. You know, Warbler to Warbler.”

 

Ohh, _that_ did it. Blaine _liked_ the idea of having someone new to worship him, someone willing to listen to his advice on how to be the most Boring Boy in the most Boring State in the union. His eyes widened under those caterpillar-like brows, and he nodded.

 

The trap had been set.

 

\---

 

“I can’t believe you asked for a shot of _Courvoisier_ with your coffee.”

 

Sebastian gave Blaine’s outfit a once over. That sweater needed to be taken out back and shot. 

 

“I forget how lame this town is,” he said, shaking his head. “When I lived in Paris, I drank it like it was mother’s milk.”

 

“When you- you lived... oh, okay,” Blaine sputtered, clearly taken aback.

 

Sebastian looked up, grinning. This guy was _so_ easy to impress.

 

“Wow.”

 

“What?” Sebastian asked.

 

“You’re just..” Blaine’s hands flailed as he tried to compose himself. Sebastian could’ve had Blaine right there under the table if he’d told him the story about Prague, probably. “Y’know, you’re out there.”

 

“And your whole bashful schoolboy thing?” Sebastian smirked. “Super hot.”

 

“Look, Sebastian...”

 

“Hm?” He sipped his sadly virgin coffee and grinned. This whole game was too easy.

 

“I have a boyfriend.”

 

“Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you,” Sebastian shot back easily. It wasn’t like he was surprised, or that Blaine had given that much thought to Kurt until this very moment, clearly.

 

“No, I mean,” Blaine weaseled, “I _really_ care about him.”

 

_Do you?_ Sebastian wondered. “He doesn’t need to know.”

 

“I’d just... never want to mess my thing up with him in any way,” Blaine said, looking down at his hands, rather than looking Sebastian in the eye, and he began gushing about how great his heretofore unmentioned boyfriend was.

 

Sebastian, however, was looking up. 

 

And that was the moment when he saw Kurt Hummel up close for the first time. Sebastian couldn’t breathe. He’d seen Hummel on stage, of course, at a distance, and in the balcony, and in the less than quality recordings of the Warblers’ performances last year, but... up _close_...

 

For a second, Sebastian had the impression he was looking at an elf. There was something elegant to Kurt’s strong features that made him seem so much _lighter_ than the boy who had the strength to swing himself around on scaffolding. Sebastian then considered whether Kurt might actually be a model. Kurt’s cheekbones were high, his cheeks and lips rosy, his lashes preternaturally long, his jawline strong but graceful. Sebastian had an urge to trail his fingers over the sublime bone structure.

 

But of course, Kurt was not an elf, nor a model. Just a public school boy wearing a black half sweater over a white shirt and pants. As ill-put together as Blaine was, Kurt was the very, very opposite. 

 

Kurt Hummel was a striking blade of masculine beauty, and he was eyeing Sebastian as though he had spotted the devil, and _he would cast him out, by God._

 

Suddenly, Kurt held his hand out for Sebastian to shake, and Sebastian realized that Blaine had been rambling on while he’d been staring. Kurt’s large hand matched Sebastian’s own, but in a dominant move, his wrist shifted and kept his hand on top as he shook firmly. Sebastian’s brows raised almost comically, as Kurt’s eyes sharply appraised Sebastian’s worth.

 

Regardless of Kurt’s initial appearance, Sebastian spotted a fighter in front of him. One that had aptly surmised what Sebastian had been doing, or at least the surface of it, and was none too pleased. 

 

Of course, Sebastian knew Kurt _shouldn’t_ be, but not just at Sebastian’s part in this. Blaine had waited _days_ to tell a boy clearly interested in him that he had a boyfriend. 

 

“And how do we know Sebastian?” Kurt said in a prim tone. 

 

Greetings exchanged, and then Kurt sat down, possessively locking his arm around Blaine’s. 

 

_You should get him a leash,_ Sebastian thought. 

 

“What are you two crazy kids doing tomorrow night?” he asked on a whim. 

 

The two boys looked to one another, and then Kurt spoke for them, “Well, we have rehearsal for Glee, and then at bedtime we do a rigorous skin-sloughing regimen over the phone together.”

 

_Skin-sloughing regimen??_ Sebastian had to fight to keep from laughing out loud at that. _Why would you_ ** _say_** _that?? What a ridiculously and boldly blunt thing to come of of your mouth! Oh, of course you do, you have the face of a fucking runway model._

 

“Well, um. Well, as sexy as _that_ sounds, what do you say we shake things up?” Sebastian almost faltered again as Kurt turned his gaze on him again. Not the same calculating judgement as before, but open, his blue-gray eyes tender and curious. “Um,” Sebastian continued, trying not to let himself spend any more time dumbly gawking at Hummel. “How about I get you guys a couple of fake IDs and we head over to Scandals in West Lima?”

 

“That’s the gay bar,” Blaine explained.

 

Kurt’s brows raised.

 

“It’s not a bad place,” Sebastian breezed. “Met the love of my life there.”

 

“Oh?” Kurt’s veiled expression opened up slightly. “How long have you two been together?”

 

“Unfortunately, we broke up twenty minutes later.”

 

Sebastian tried to hide his smirk as Kurt’s face contorted. He looked like he was sucking on a lemon now.

 

“I don’t think clubs are really _our thing_ ,” Blaine said with a bit of a grimace.

 

“Oh, I don’t know. We’re young. We could have a night out. Live a little.” Kurt looked first to Sebastian, then to Blaine, then to Sebastian again. It was like a challenge.

 

Sebastian smiled and lifted his cup. “Excellent.”

 

“I was just about to get some coffee.” Kurt rose, still holding onto Blaine’s arm for a second as he shot Sebastian a look of cold, polite death. 

 

Sebastian watched Kurt walk up to the counter. His pants were tight to a degree that was truly ridiculous... and almost painfully sexy.

 

“So if you’re not interested in a little side action,” Sebastian said lightly as he turned back to Blaine. “How about a little team action?”

 

“Team?” Blaine screwed his furry eyebrows together.

 

“You. Me. The ice princess up there.”

 

“With _Kurt?_ ” Blaine spat his boyfriend’s name out like it was a slimy piece fish.

 

“Do you have any other boyfriends? He’s _hot_. And if you’ve got the blushing schoolboy thing going on, he’s the _master_.” Sebastian ran his thumb over the side of his cup. “I bet he’s a fiery little tiger in the sack.”

 

“ _No_.” Blaine shook his head, looking upset.

 

“No, to the threesome, or no, he’s not a tiger? Because I don’t believe the latter.”

 

“Kurt’s very um... _committed_ to his virginity. He really wants to wait.”

 

Sebastian scowled. “For what, marriage? Does he know that’s not a thing in Ohio?”

 

“Maybe? All I know is that he definitely doesn’t want anything below the belt right now.”

 

“Pity.” Sebastian cast another glance back. 

 

Kurt was leaning on the counter and talking with the barista. Sebastian couldn’t imagine what he was saying, but the way the girl was giggling, Kurt was probably being sweet and adorable. 

 

“Hey,” Blaine objected. “You shouldn’t _objectify_ him that way.”

 

“Why, is he a baby?”

 

“No, he’s a senior. He’s just... He’s not like that.”

 

“So skin-sloughing is all you’re getting from him, and you’re fine with it?”

 

Blaine opened his lips, but seemed unable to spit out anything close to an answer. Kurt returned to Blaine’s side a few seconds later carrying a cardboard tray of coffees.

 

“I have to head back to the shop,” he said.

 

“Yeah, I wondered what you were doing here at this time on a Thursday,” Blaine said.

 

Kurt rubbed Blaine’s shoulder with one hand and balanced the tray in the other. “It was boring. Cassius needed a pick-me-up, so I promised to get some coffee better than the stuff we make in the back.”

 

“What shop?” Sebastian asked.

 

“Hummel Tires and Lube,” Kurt answered, watching Sebastian’s face.

 

Sebastian let out a partial laugh. “You _work_ there?” 

 

Lemon face again. “I do,” Kurt said in a chirrupy voice. “You should bring your Audi around for a check-up.”

 

Sebastian made an offended noise. “What makes you so sure I have an Audi?”

 

“Why are _you_ so surprised I work in a garage?” 

 

Kurt bowed over to plant a kiss on Blaine’s lips and headed out. Sebastian was surprised that Kurt didn’t drag Blaine along with him to keep him out of Sebastian’s slutty clutches. But this was a test. Just like the club was a test. Blaine was expected to show Kurt that he had nothing to worry about.

 

Unfortunately, Sebastian thought his time with 20-minute-silver-shirt guy a few weeks ago had been a more solid and faithful relationship than the one Kurt had.

 

 


	4. Chapter Four

**Kurt**

 

“A Shirley Temple, extra _virgin_ , extra _cherries_.” Sebastian smirked as he handed the glass to Kurt. “I heard you’re the designated driver, like, permanently.”

 

Something about the weathered, low-energy dilapidation of this place seemed appropriate. Kurt felt like it was a metaphor for the appeal of Sebastian in some way. The lurid promise of fabulous gay fun on the outside, but within lay nothing but spent dreams.

 

Kurt accepted the glass with a forced smile. “So. Have you been to drag Wednesday before? Seems like... very a relaxed crowd.”

 

Sebastian chuckled. “No, I usually go on the weekends. I’m not the Wednesday night kinda gay. I just thought _you’d_ be more comfortable tonight.”

 

Kurt sucked in his cheeks. Sebastian grinned.

 

_He’s harmless,_ Blaine had said. Right now, Blaine was downing his beer and jerking his hips from side to side, paying no attention whatsoever to the barbs being thrown over his head.

 

Kurt could’ve snapped that he didn’t _do_ drag, not really, but there was no point in engaging someone who was going to be like that. Instead, he put his drink down and pulled Blaine onto the dance floor.

 

And that was the trend for the rest of the night: Blaine drinking, Sebastian slipping in between them or saying something just a shade light of dragging Kurt for not _really_ being a guy, or mature, or attractive, and Kurt trying to keep up, fighting for Blaine’s attention, resisting the urge to unleash complete verbal destruction on Sebastian.

 

Truthfully, Kurt had plenty preloaded. Every time Sebastian spoke, Kurt had to physically swallow down the harsh words about this glib pretender. 

 

The thing was that, even inebriated, Blaine might remember, and he’d been less than pleased lately with Kurt’s comments toward their so-called friends. Kurt didn’t understand why Blaine insisted on trying to be so ‘fair’ about everything and why it seemed to be such a huge request for him to be on Kurt’s side.

 

But Blaine didn’t _like it._ It was hard enough for Kurt to get his own boyfriend to look his way, even when he was actively suggesting that they fool around, and they had enough to fight about on a daily basis. Kurt could hold his tongue a bit. For now, anyway.

 

“Nice moves,” Sebastian said from behind.

 

Kurt turned away from Blaine, who was flailing his arms from side to side and sort of leaning backwards, and to catch Sebastian mimicking the shimmy Kurt had been doing at Blaine.

 

“What, you don’t have any Warbler two-steps to show off? You’ve gotta crib my moves?”

 

To Kurt’s surprise, Sebastian threw his head back and laughed deeply. “Oh... Oh, nooo, we’re _not_ doing those anymore!”

 

“Looking forward to what you come up with.” Kurt switched up his dancing, letting his shoulders and hips connect with the music. “But you won’t beat us.”

 

“So confident! I trust you were watching the same auditions I was.”

 

Kurt raised his brows. “You... What?”

 

“I got a nice earful of what you public school kids have to offer. I’m not really worried about Regionals, to be honest. But I hope you guys have fun. That’s the important part, right?” Sebastian said, condescendingly. As though the concept that the New Directions might actually _compete_ was ludicrous. 

 

“No, that’s not the important part. If we don’t keep winning, they’ll axe the club,” Kurt said sharply.

 

“Ah.” Sebastian nodded slowly. “That’s too bad. But it’s not really my problem. You should take it up with the school board. Tell them it’s not P.C. to take activities away from special needs kids.”

 

Kurt opened his mouth slightly, then just stopped dancing and headed for the bar. He didn’t look back until he was sitting in front of his nearly untouched drink (it was sweet, but not really good). Sebastian was staring at him, while Blaine closed the space left by Kurt.

 

**Sebastian**

 

Scandals was anything but scandalous. And babysitting a couple of baby gays on a school night wasn’t particularly his idea of a good time, but it had been enlightening to see Kurt and Blaine interacting. Kurt had seemed controlling at the coffee shop. Now, it seemed like Blaine was more used to getting his way; any gestures he made to appease Kurt’s mood were superficial. Though he was very aware that there were lines he shouldn’t cross when it came to Kurt. 

 

And Blaine was skirting them all tonight. They’d only been there a few hours, and Blaine had already had three beers. At this rate, he might be puking on someone’s shoes by the end of the night, and Sebastian didn’t intend to sacrifice his. 

 

Kurt, already riled a bit by Blaine focusing so much on Sebastian, was more easy than ever to get flushed and flustered. Although Sebastian had been teasing Kurt constantly, Sebastian was having a better time talking to Kurt than most guys he picked up at bars. He would have to get the little priss out to the clubs in Westerville sometime.

 

Kurt went back and forth from the dance floor to the bar, although he wasn’t drinking. At one point he was talking to a chunky bear cub, and it was clear that the bear cub was into him. Sebastian kept an eye out to see if Blaine would notice, but he didn’t, not before Kurt returned. Later, Kurt seemed to grow tired, and left the dance floor for a good long time.

 

Eventually, Sebastian pressed another beer into Blaine’s hand and went to see if Kurt could be cajoled into a better mood.

 

“We miss you out there,” Sebastian said as he approached. 

 

Kurt looked up, one brow arched very high. “Do you?” He looked back at Blaine. “Is that his third?”

 

“Fourth.”

 

“I have to drive him home, y’know. You’re paying for my car to get cleaned if he throws up in the back seat.”

 

Sebastian laughed and sat down. He gestured to the bartender for another drink. Unlike their gelled dance machine, Sebastian knew how to pace himself.

 

“Overindulgence is one thing,” he said, watching Kurt’s sour expression, “but one drink wouldn’t hurt. I’d even go as far to say it would _help,_ you know, with the gay bar superstar over there.”

 

“Help?” Kurt laughed softly. He took a cherry stem and began tying it with his fingers. “One drink.” He shook his head and laughed softly. “One drink turns into one more. One drink turns into my Aunt Mildred’s liver failure. One drink turned into my fifteen-year-old self projectile vomiting onto a woman with severe OCD. You’ll understand if I’d prefer to abstain. No one is forcing me to. I just think, genetically, it’s a good idea for the time being.”

 

Sebastian stared at Kurt for a moment, trying to figure out what to say.

 

Then a deep voice came from Kurt, “Whoa, heavy bro...”

 

“How do you do that?” Sebastian looked around. “You got another guy behind you or something?”

 

“I have a very wide range,” Kurt said coolly. “As you no doubt know, from watching my _West Side Story_ audition.”

 

Sebastian leaned forward on the bar. “Then why don’t you talk like that all the time? With the lower voice?” 

 

“Why _would_ I?”

 

Sebastian shrugged. “It’d be kinda cool, wouldn’t it? Sounding like _a guy,_ for once?”

 

“I _am_ a guy.” Kurt rolled his eyes. “ _This_ is a guy’s voice.”

 

“Keep telling yourself that.”

 

Kurt’s eyes narrowed, he cast a quick glance back at Blaine, and he crossed one arm over himself as he leaned on the bar. “And _you_ keep telling yourself that popping that pale plank stuffed your jeans when you dance is fooling _anybody_ into thinking you’ve got an ass.”

 

Sebastian gaped for a moment, then laughed heartily. Cute _and fun._ How did anyone in this place keep their hands off of this one? Kurt was the hottest piece in this place (though not too much competition, just a bunch of olds, fems, and fats). Kurt was like a magnet right to the pants.

 

“Hm, baby don’t got back,” Sebastian drawled. “What’s a gay boy to do?”

 

“Maybe stay away from other gay boys’ boyfriends,” Kurt suggested with a large smile that could only be described as _violently polite._

 

Before Sebastian could assure Kurt that his hobbit of a boyfriend wasn’t the star of _this_ piece, the hobbit himself showed up, swaying his hips from side to side like he was being jerked around on a string.

 

“Hey, uh, hey, what are we talking about?” Blaine asked.

 

“Kurt’s pixie voice and my flat ass,” Sebastian said.

 

“You don’t have a flat ass!” Blaine objected, swaying slightly. “You have... It’s nice, your ass. It _is_. _”_

 

“Thank God we clear _that_ up,” Kurt deadpanned, looking across the room. He seemed to be pretending to study a particularly cliquey group of drag queens. The good ones, not the casuals who dressed out to get a free drink.

 

“Let’s dance,” Blaine said breathlessly, tugging on Sebastian’s shirt sleeve. “I just wanna... I just wanna _dance_ you know? Just leave it all... Just... You and me, you know?”

 

Sebastian watched Kurt for a moment. When he said nothing, Sebastian added, “Just you and Kurt? Won’t I get lonely?”

 

“Me and...?” Blaine frowned in confusion. Because “you and me” hadn’t been about his boyfriend. Kurt was what was being left.

 

Kurt sipped his drink, then tapped his pinkie on the rim of the glass. The silence was becoming uncomfortable.

 

“Go,” Kurt said. “Dance. Enjoy life. Leave it all behind.”

 

Blaine scrunched his nose and bobbed his head, dancing oddly in place, and then giving Sebastian another tug before running back out onto the less than populated dance floor.

 

“You comin’ with us?” Sebastian asked.

 

“No. Go be adventurous.”

  
“This place is _hardly_ an adventure.”

 

“Well, not all of us have had the opportunity to cut a swath of debauched revelry across Europe.”

 

Sebastian wanted to lean over and press a kiss onto those sullen lips, to wipe the frown from those stern brows.

 

“Remind me to invite you next time my boarding school friends and I decide to go swathing on the hols,” Sebastian teased. 

 

At Kurt’s lack of response, Sebastian was a loss. He was starting to wonder why he’d suggested this pathetic “adventure” to begin with. He went out to the dance floor, where Blaine was already jerking around idiotically. 

 

Rarely had Sebastian had such a miserable time at a gay bar. He thought back to the worst of his nights out, when guys were saying no, or they said yes but weren’t any good. One night, a creepy old guy wouldn’t leave Sebastian alone until he’d attached himself to a group of lesbians and a big girl called Jack told the guy to fuck off and threw a drink in his face.

 

It had been a long time since Sebastian had thought of that night. It had been early on in his career in the clubs. Truth be told, early on, the clubs weren’t much fun on his own. It had gotten better when he’d been adopted by the lesbo-pack and Jack set him up with her brother. That was the reason to go in a group, if he wasn’t cruising. Clubs could be fun, but they could also get boring, and lonely.

 

And right right now, Kurt seemed to be having his fill of both of the latter.

 

Sebastian grabbed onto Blaine’s collar, steering him around so that Sebastian could watch Kurt at the bar. He was talking to the bear cub again, smiling just a little, tilting his head to the side just so. The looks Kurt gave him were kind, sympathetic. His whole demeanor changed. He was still guarded, but something about the bear cub caused Kurt to soften, just a little.

 

Sebastian twisted his mouth to the side, wondering what the bear cub had that made Kurt change that way.

 

After another song, Sebastian sent Blaine to go set some water, and he headed to the jukebox himself. He _had_ to get something playing here besides the golden oldies from the 80s.

 

“Hey,” a baritone chimed behind him. 

 

Sebastian cast a look behind him. It was the bear cub. Sebastian rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the song listings.

 

“What’s a guy gotta do to get a guy to dance with him around here?” the cub asked.

 

“Okay.” Sebastian turned and raked another look over the guy. “First off, you’re like, a hundred pounds overweight, and with those Liberace eyebrows... You might as well just do yourself a favor and go back in the closet.”

 

Bear Cub frowned and took a step back. Sebastian shook his head and started plunking some change into the machine.

 

“ _Dude_. I’m not even that interested in you,” he said with some annoyance. “I’m just tryin’ to pry you off my friend’s boyfriend. Try not being such a huge _bitch_.”

 

Sebastian’s finger froze on B36. When he looked back, Bear Cub was walking away.

 

“Christ.” Sebastian selected a few more numbers. “I provoked the Mama Bear."

 


	5. Chapter Five

**Kurt**

 

_And I came here to make you dance tonight_

_I don’t care if I’m a guilty pleasure for yoooou..._

 

Kurt turned his head to see Dave stalking across the room, taking a big swig of beer as he approached a broad-shouldered, broad-faced guy who was laughing. The man put his arm around Dave’s shoulders.

 

Then, there was Sebastian. Dancing. All hips. Unbuttoning his shirt. Feeling his hands over his legs. It was the first time that he’d actually registered as “gay” to Kurt. While Blaine was slumped over a glass of water, Kurt’s brows shot straight up, and he felt glued to the seat. Arrested by Sebastian's lecherous assault on the dance floor.

 

What was he _doing_ out there? Why was he doing it? He looked like he was about to _mate._

 

And he was coming their way.

 

“So stop pretending!” Sebastian sang as he undid another button. “I came here to make you dance tonight! I don’t care if I’m a guilty pleasure for you! Shut up! ‘Cause we won’t stop! We’re gettin’ down ‘til the sun’s comin’ up!”

 

Kurt swallowed hard, and his heart pounded rapidly. If he ignored the fact that Sebastian was probably going to turn his mating dance on Blaine, Sebastian actually had a smooth, rich voice when he sang. And he wasn’t... _entirely_ unattractive.

 

That was a problem, too. Because as Sebastian came closer, he didn’t make an effort to get Blaine to turn around. It took Kurt a number of obscene hip movements and Sebastian touching the bottom of Kurt’s chin to realize that this dance was _not_ directed to Blaine. 

 

_Me? He’s flirting with me? Does he want Blaine or me? Or... Blaine_ **_and_ ** _me? Or...?_

 

“What are you doing?” Kurt stared at Sebastian as the words tumbled freely out of his own mouth. “What do you want from me?”

 

“Shut your mouth and get down on the floor!” Sebastian sang with a laugh. He grabbed Kurt’s hand and pulled. “So cynical? Poor baby. I can dish it ‘cause I know how to take it, oh!”

 

“Oh!” Kurt echoed, finding himself suddenly on his feet. Suddenly dancing. Suddenly moving to the middle to the floor, frowning in confusion just as his lips betrayed him and began to curve into a smile.

 

When they’d first met, Kurt had scarcely allowed Sebastian to look human. Entering the club tonight, his mind had been set on criticism. It was mortifying to realize the attraction of the darkness of Sebastian’s eyes, the way they flashed with amusement as he came up with his oh so ‘clever‘ insults...  

 

_Dammit._

 

Sebastian threw his head back and shook away the sweat from dancing so hard. Kurt felt his skin prickling. Oh, God, what was happening to him?

 

The next song came took over, and Kurt forgot about his existential crisis.

_Yeah, smash on the radio, bet I penned it!_

 

Kurt let out a groan and started to shimmy, biting his lip. Behind him, he could hear some of the older patrons making noise of complaint, but he didn’t care at all. 

 

“You like that, huh?” Sebastian shouted over the music.

 

“It’s Britney, bitch! I don’t care _what_ you have to say!”

 

“I knew you were one of those Britney freaks. I could _smell it_ on you.”

 

“Keep your pervy nose to yourself.” Kurt loosened his bolo tie and closed his eyes, ignoring Sebastian, ignoring his stupid boyfriend, ignoring his reformed bully. There was nothing but Kurt and the music.

 

“ This time I need a soldier, a really bad ass soldier that knows how to take, take care of me! I'm so damn glad that's over!” Kurt sang along to the music as he danced. It was hot in the club, and he was sweating now more than when they’d been dancing before. But that hadn’t been real dancing. It had been a competition for Blaine’s attention. This was freeing. It was like he was flying. Hips fluidly grinding, back arched, thighs spread.

 

It would be fair to say that Kurt had never been able to dance like this, not outside of the safe confines of his room. Not without wondering what someone else might have to say about his way of dancing, his way of moving. Someone telling him that he held his hands wrong (“Jazz hands, Kurt!”) and that “boys don’t move their hips like that.”

 

From the edge of the dance floor, Kurt could hear a few of the older men making low whistles and catcalls. Normally, that might have made him a little anxious, but instead, he just raised his hands over his head and stayed in his own lovely Britney world.

 

Until he felt a pair of hands on his hips. Kurt’s eyes opened, and he turned his head to see Sebastian behind him.

 

“Don’t freak. Just have fun,” Sebastian instructed. 

 

Kurt panted heavily for a moment, wondering what to do. Then Blaine reappeared at his side, thrashing himself around in an approximation to the beat. If Blaine was there, it was okay, so Kurt pulled away from Sebastian and started to dance again.

 

Sebastian lifted his hands up, like he’d just been caught trying to steal some cookies.

 

_Get someone else’s cookies, Smythe,_ Kurt thought to himself.

 

**Sebastian**

 

Sebastianstayed behind to settle up their bill and say goodbye to a few regulars. He didn’t come in here often, but he liked to think of himself as a good tipper, and it always paid to be on good terms with the workers. They knew things. They could keep you ahead of trouble. His dad had taught him that. 

 

As he walked outside, Sebastian took an assessment of the night. It hadn’t actually done much to further his overall plans. Blaine was still as much of a mess as ever (and would probably puke on Kurt by the end of the evening). Kurt didn’t really seem that interested in him. In fact, he seemed more like he was barely able to tolerate Sebastian.

 

Oh well. If Sebastian hadn’t done damage to his plans, at the very least, he could roll with what came next. At the very least, Blanderson would end up more off his game than ever.

 

“Right! It’s about _us_!”

 

Sebastian turned his head as he heard Kurt’s voice carrying stridently across the parking lot.

 

“Which is why I don’t wanna do it on a night that you spent half of dancing with another guy! And that you’re not sober enough to remember it in the morning!” Kurt cried.

 

“Why are you yelling at me?” Blaine yelled back.

 

“Because I never felt _less_ like being intimate with someone! And either you can’t tell or you just don’t care!”

 

Sebastian snorted. He could place a safe bet on the latter.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I’m sorry if I’m trying to be spontaneous and fun! I think I’m just gonna walk home.”

 

Sebastian paused at his car, keys in hand.

 

“Blaine!” Kurt called out plaintively.

 

Sebastian swore to himself and looked up, seeing Kurt literally turn around, then walk forward, and then back. Then he kicked a tire and leaned over with a sob.

 

“Damn you.” Sebastian sighed and headed over to Kurt’s car. “What’s going on?”

 

“Nothing!” Kurt glared at Sebastian, his eyes blotchy and tears staining his face. 

 

“Yeah. Clearly.” Sebastian looked over his shoulder. Blaine was still stumbling toward the street. 

 

“What do you _want_ from me?” Kurt demanded. 

 

“Nothing,” Sebastian said a little defensively. “Do you want me to give him a lift? I probably live closer to his house than you do anyway.”

 

“You’ve been drinking,” Kurt said uncertainly.

 

“Less than Wobbles over there, and at least I’ve been hydrating all night. I can handle myself.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “I can walk a line if you want. Recite the alphabet backwards?”

 

“I- um.” Kurt strained his neck to get another look at Blaine. “Yeah. Okay. Just don’t let him wander around in the road? He’ll get hurt.”

 

“No problem. The Warblers would probably collectively implode if I let their dreamboat mini-God get turned into street pizza.”

 

Kurt laughed, then caught himself and covered his mouth. Sebastian touched his shoulder, and Kurt only stiffened slightly. He looked pretty upset. More upset than Drunky Brewster back there warranted. 

 

“I’ll give you a text when I drop him off. It’ll be fine.” Sebastian leaned forward. “He’ll be fine.”

 

“I-I um... Yeah. Thanks. Sebastian.”

 

“Yeah, you be careful yourself. Get something cold to drink before you head out on the road,” Sebastian advised. 

 

Kurt took a deep breath. His eyes were impossibly wide. Impossibly blue. How could one person hold so much expressiveness? How could he look so different from one moment to the next?

 

Sebastian could feel those impossible, beautiful eyes following him back to the car.

 

And no, coaxing Blaine into his backseat wasn’t pleasant. And yes, Blaine had tried to get handsy with him. But it was worth it for that one completely unguarded moment with Kurt.

 

 


	6. Chapter Six

**Kurt**

 

Kurt’s face fell slowly from optimism to devastation as he scanned the cast list behind the group of his celebrating friends. 

 

On Friday, he and Quinn had sat together watching Rachel and Mercedes battle it out for Maria. He and Blaine hadn’t gotten back on speaking terms until Sunday.That Monday the Glee club had lost Mercedes, thanks to Mr. Schue’s new competitive attitude.

 

Today, Mercedes wasn’t even on the cast list... and Kurt was _Officer Krupke_?

 

Blaine was jumping up and down, hugging Tina and touching his fingertips to his lips in joy. Santana bobbed her head from side to side as she and Brittany laughed together. Rachel was uncharacteristically modest about her win. 

 

Kurt clutched the strap of his bookbag and looked around to see Mercedes staring at them from across the hallway. She wasn’t even coming over to look. With a deep breath, he headed in her direction.

 

And he didn’t fail to notice how Artie avoided Kurt’s gaze as he passed by.

 

“Hey! Did you see?” Kurt asked.

 

“I don’t have to. They talked to Rachel and me already.” Mercedes shrugged and looked down the hallway.

 

“Well that’s... You were _better than her_!”

 

“I know. And they said they wanted to double cast us.” She licked her lips and looked down at her books. “I said no.”

 

“You... what? _Why?!_ ”

 

“Look, I’m sorry if it seems like I’m a quitter. I know that’s what Mr. Schue’s gonna treat me like in front of you all. But I’ve _had it_ with him treating me like I don’t try. I try as hard as any of you. I practice just as much. And I was better than Rachel for this part, and they all know it. They just couldn’t stand to cast a black Maria, so they came up with double casting bullshit.”

 

“Don’t be sorry.” Kurt pressed his lips into a line. “It’s just... excessively unfair.”

 

Mercedes touched his shoulder. “Well, you get a week of having to smooch Rachel either way, right?”

 

Kurt frowned. Then he raised one brow slowly as he realized Mercedes’ mistake. “No. I’m Krupke.”

 

“ _What?_ ”

 

“I didn’t get the lead. Blaine did.”

 

“Bull. Shit,” Mercedes said loudly enough that a few heads turned from across the hall to look at them.

 

Kurt shrugged. 

 

“I shoulda taken the part and made them double cast Tony, too. Then the play would have one good week, and then THEM.” Mercedes looked around, like she was trying to find something to punch. Or someone.

 

“It’s not your responsibility to make them cast people who can actually hit the notes properly.” Kurt covered his eyes as he felt them sting. “God, I don’t want to be this person. I don’t want to be ragging on my boyfriend over a _part_.”

 

“Well, he should’ve stayed out of it, like he _promised_ he would!” Mercedes wrapped her arm around Kurt’s shoulders and began to steer him down the hall.

 

Away from the eyes of their friends.

 

“I should... I need to find something else,” Kurt muttered. “I’m never gonna get into a good school with so little to speak of on my resume. Krupke doesn’t even include any singing and dancing.”

 

“Kurt, you need to drop _them_ and go get a _real_ part. You don’t owe them _anything_. Neither of us do. You’ve been there from the very beginning, just like I have, and you’ve worked just as hard. Maybe harder. God, I remember being the one to work on you with vocals because Mr. Schue was so damn busy with his golden couple.”

 

“You’re like my personal trainer,” Kurt laughed softly.

 

“Isn’t there any other place you could audition? Like community theatre, or something?”

 

Kurt thought about that for a moment. “I have _some_ connections. I had to bow out this summer, but there’s a Shakespeare group that _I think_ has some things going on this fall, too. I’ll see what I can get. I’m... Mercedes, I’m afraid to just drop the play. Then I really have _nothing_. What if I can’t get another part?”

 

“I’m tellin’ you, you _will_. But Krupke’s just a few lines. If you wanna keep it, just for an extra line on your CV, do it. But don’t let them hold you back anymore. I’m not.” 

 

Kurt nodded and forced himself to take a few breaths. He hadn’t been so arrogant to assume he’d had it in the bag. Every time he’d shown that kind of confidence, McKinley found ways to smack him down. But he’d believed, at least, that he was the only _logical_ choice for the lead, and if nothing else, he would still _get a decent part_ , based on his skills and the strength of his audition.

 

He had been good. He _was_ _good_. 

 

But maybe those few stray laughs during his reading had said more about the way his teachers and Artie felt about him than their applause had. Maybe there was no logical reason to put Rachel and Blaine front and center. The directors had simply thought Rachel and Blaine were the appropriate ones for the part before the auditions had even started.

 

“I don’t know how I’m going to go back into that choir room,” Kurt admitted.

 

“Look, we’re supposed to be an all girl group, but if you wanna defect with us to Shelby’s choir, then you’re more than welcome. I’m the captain. I’ll convince her. Girl groups always need folks to take care of the lower base sound, anyway. I can show her our video of ‘Give Up the Funk.’”

 

Kurt looked up and smiled. “I really appreciate that. Let me think about it? I don’t want to spoil your girl group. Your choir sounds like a great idea, actually.”

 

“Yeah, we’re gonna be awesome.”

 

Kurt nodded slowly. Mercedes stopped them in front of their lockers.

 

“You’ve got options,” she insisted. “Don’t _ever_ let them make you think that they’re all you can hope for. You’re _better_ than what they’re offering.”

 

“Thanks for the pep talk.”

 

“Well, it was about time someone returned the favor, after all the pep talks _you_ give _us_.”

 

Kurt laughed softly. He leaned back against his locker, crossing his arms. “Can we... Could we get together later? I have something I need to talk to you about, away from the gossipy ears of the McKinley hallways.”

 

“Sure. I know I’ve been pretty Shane-focused lately. Now that I’ve broken from the club, he’s so proud of me that I won’t have to feel guilty for blowing him off.”

 

“Don’t blow him off! I just need a couple of hours.”

 

Mercedes shook her head and chuckled. “Nah. He has me like every night. We’d probably better put in some space before we totally start getting on each other’s nerves. He needs to spend some time with his boys, too.”

 

“Okay, okay. Blow him off, then.” Kurt sighed and rested his head on her shoulder. Mercedes combed her fingers through the back of his hair.

 

“It’s gonna be alright.”

 

\---

 

“It’s okay if you vote for her.” Kurt continued chopping celery at a rapid pace.

 

Finn was in the middle of stealing a piece of cubed steak from the sauce pan, but froze. Then he dropped the piece, caught it, and managed to juggle it onto the counter. 

 

“Um...”

 

“She’s your girlfriend. I know she expects you to support her.”

 

“And you’re my brother.”

 

“Both true.” Kurt scraped the cut vegetables into the pan.

 

“Yeah.” Finn took the piece from the counter and stuffed it in his mouth.

 

“Could you at least wipe that up?” Kurt stirred their dinner and leaned over to smell it. 

 

“Oh, yeah.” Finn hopped over to the fridge to get a paper towel to wipe up. 

 

Kurt added a little more cumin. 

 

“I’m... I’m gonna think about it, okay?” Finn answered, finally.

 

“It means a lot to me that you’re even doing that. I know how she can be, when crossed.”

 

“She’s gotta understand. I heard that ‘changing the school’ stuff from you before she even decided to run.” Finn shrugged and crooked his mouth to the side. “And I think you mean it a lot more. So... I think I’m gonna vote for you, but I’m gonna think about it some more, if that’s okay.”

 

“It’s your choice,” Kurt said with a laugh. “I won’t stop being your brother if you don’t.”

 

“She’ll be mad if I don’t vote for her, but she’s not gonna dump me for it. She can’t pretend like I haven’t been supportive of her.”

 

“She’s very good at pretending that.” Kurt turned the burner off and moved the saucepan to a free burner.

 

“Are you gonna...?” Finn leaned against the counter and stared at Kurt.

 

“What?” Kurt looked up to see the conflicted expression on his brother’s face.

 

“Are you gonna leave the Glee club? I heard you were thinking about it.”

 

“Holy _Noodle Monster_ , it is _impossible_ to have a conversation in those hallways.” Kurt rolled his eyes and went to get the plates. “I got an _offer_. That’s _all_.”

 

“Please don’t go.”

 

Kurt set the plates down and noted Finn’s pleading expression.

 

“Don’t leave us.”

 

“I won’t. But I still need to find something important for my resume.”

 

Finn nodded and came over to help with the silverware. “That’s understandable. Thanks for being cool about all this.”

 

“Oh, I’m not cool about this. Me and Beiste and Pillsbury and Abrams? We are _not_ cool.”

 

“... um.”

 

“Don’t feel responsible for it. It just is.”

 

“What about you and Blaine?”

 

“I... don’t know.”

 

Finn came over and opened his arms. “C’mon. Give your big bro a hug.”

 

“I don’t want a hug,” Kurt grumbled. “I want a leading part! I want a solo!”

 

He laughed softly at himself and hung his head. Finn reached over and mussed his hair.

 

“My _hair_...” Kurt complained.

 

“I know I’m not supposed to be so mean to your boyfriend, but... If Rachel came up and tried to take something from me that I needed, I’d be really pissed. Like, super pissed. I expect her to be competitive and cutthroat with everyone else, but I expect her to be nice to me, because I’m her boyfriend.”

 

“Fair point.”

 

“What? What aren’t you saying?”

 

Kurt scowled. Even thinking about Blaine since the parking lot at Scandals left a lump in his throat. “I need to put our dinner on plates before the vegetables get soft. Could you get our drinks? Do you know if Carole and dad are gonna be any later?”

 

“No. They didn’t say. I guess Burt’s busy at the shop, or something.”

 

“Then it’ll just be us.”

 

“Cool. That’s the bonus of getting a brother. No more nights alone.”

 

Kurt smiled.

 

**Sebastian**

 

_Don’t talk to Dave that way. He’s had a very hard time, and no one cares about your ‘clinical’ assessment of his weight._

 

That was the last text message Sebastian had received from Kurt. He’d sent Kurt a message the moment he’d dropped Blaine at home and gotten him in bed. Kurt had followed with a sincere thank you.

 

Emboldened, Sebastian had added a day later: _I can’t stop thinking of you dancing to Britney. I was never a fan before, but now..._

 

And Kurt had replied: _Keep it in your pants, Richie Rich. Britney brings out the best in all of us._

 

Sebastian had enjoyed a few more texts back and forth... until Kurt had found out what he’d said to that bear cub, _Dave_ , apparently. Sebastian had texted back, _I didn’t know you two were friends._ But Kurt hadn’t replied.

 

As a result, Sebastian was more irritable and less tolerant of any complaints from the Warblers about how hard he was working them. If nothing else, he would continue to build up this group until they were at least the level of regional winners, hopefully national by the time he graduated. It was time for some real trophies in those cases. _Some_ of Sebastians’ plans _would_ pay off.

 

That meant extra practices for the boys, especially those having trouble with the new choreography. When they complained, Sebastian told them about New Direction’s “Booty Camp” that had the group working every day basic moves, even though they hadn’t been given the choreo for their upcoming competition yet.

 

“That’s... ridiculous,” Trent said, pulling on the front of his gym uniform.

 

“Yes. And as far as I can tell from Facebook stalking them,” Sebastian said as he strolled down the line of sweating, struggling song birds. “It’s just pissing off their better talent. You should’ve seen the blowouts going on over their walls. Bitching about parts in the play, complaining about favoritism. I’m pretty sure I heard the term ‘homophobic asshole’ tossed around referring to one of their coaches.”

 

David winced. “God. I’d hoped that place wasn’t as bad as Kurt described last year.”

 

“Kurt knew how hard it would be when he went back,” Wes said. David tilted his head to the side and gave Wes a look that fell into the category of “motherly disappointment.”

 

“You don’t think they’re going after him again?” Trent asked, looking anxious.

 

“The fish rots from the head,” Nick said, sprawling back on a chair. “Teachers didn’t do jack _crap_ for him last year. I’m not shocked to hear part of it came from them.”

 

“The point is,” Sebastian said. “They’re a _mess_. _We’ve_ gotten new lists together and started planning arrangements and choreography. _They’re_ still fooling around and fighting each other. This is the time when we get so far ahead that they can _never_ catch up.”

 

The boys looked to one another, some emboldened, some still conflicted. Regardless, when Sebastian started the music up again, they all put an effort into getting the moves in unison.

 

\---

 

“I’m gonna end up slinging coffee here.”

 

“I just don’t understand why they won’t _listen_ to me.”

 

“Another Lima Loser. Who’s going to look at this empty application and say, ‘We’ve _gotta_ have this guy? He worked at a _garage_!’”

 

“I have _valid ideas_. I was practically the _leader_ of the Warblers. I’ve performed _professionally_.”

 

“Maybe I could go to state... They have a good Pride parade in Columbus... I’ve always wanted to go to one.”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes as he heard the two familiar voices at the edge of the coffee shop. He could imagine them in their golden years, talking at each other with their hearing aids off and having no idea what the other was saying.

 

“Well, if it isn’t the Lima losers. Sassy... and Drunky,” Sebastian said as he strolled up to them. “How tricks?”

 

“I wouldn’t know. But surely you’ve had a couple dozen since we saw you last,” Kurt said.

 

Blaine gave Kurt an admonishing look. “I can’t deal with this right now. I need more coffee,” he said, with a flip of one hand.

 

“Does he take _classes_ on how to be gay?” Sebastian asked, stealing Blaine’s seat as he watched Blaine leave. “Did he pick those hand gestures up at the learning annex?”

 

“I don’t _think_ you’re the person I’m interested in hearing tips on how to be a ‘good gay’ from,” Kurt snapped.

 

Sebastian trailed his fingertips over Kurt’s table. “Yeah, because what the world really needs is more of the asexual innocent G.B.F. type.”

 

“Well, maybe not all of us are in a rush to wet our dicks on anything that moves.”

 

Sebastian started to grin. That one almost made him _proud_ of Kurt. “I dunnooo...” he sang. “It’s _pretty_ fun.”

 

“Okay.” Kurt put his pen down. “Let me be clear, Seb _ass_ tian. I don’t like you. You’re a _terrible_ person.”

 

“Fun,” Sebastian shot back, although the cords of his throat were tightening. “I don’t like you either.”

 

“Oh, and how much poorer _I_ am for it,” Kurt drawled.

 

Sebastian shrugged and picked up the application Kurt had been working on. “All I have to do is look at those homemade McQueen knock offs to know how poor _you_ are.”

 

Kurt’s smile was violently sweet. “You smell like Craigslist.”

 

Sebastian fought a laugh. “I don’t _care_ if you think I’m a terrible person. I’m _not_ going to apologize for what I said to Baby Bear. He was coming on to me. Some guys just don’t listen unless you put a little bite into it.”

 

Kurt sucked his cheeks in and looked up at him. “Okay.”

 

Sebastian rose a brow. Kurt clearly had made up his mind about Sebastian. It rankled him, in a way. Most people, Sebastian could get a beat on. He could figure out a way to talk to them. Kurt was like granite. Resolute. Unmovable.

 

And yet he let that slick-haired, swollen brat walk all over him.

 

“You _really_ think you’re gonna get in at NYADA?” Sebastian let out a short laugh. “I think the country’s premier musical theatre program has a _lot_ better offers than a half-trained ingenue with a hard-luck case of the gay face.”

 

“You know, they probably do.” Kurt snatched the paper back from him. “But if they pass up on me, they’ll be the ones missing out.”

 

“You have a lot of confidence; I’ll give you that. But you shouldn’t. Not until you get a sthpeech therapisth,” Sebastian teased.

 

He could tell by the alarmed look on Kurt’s face that he had hit a sore spot.

 

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Kurt said with cold politeness. “Now maybe turn your flat little ass and CW hair around and find someone else to annoy.”

 

“As you wish, princessth,” Sebastian replied. “I’ll see you on opening night.”

 

“What?” Kurt looked up from straightening his pile of papers.

 

“ _West Side Story_. Looks to be the event of the year,” Sebastian teased.

 

“You’re coming?” Kurt was almost gaping now.

 

“Of course. I can’t wait to see the two of you prancing around on stage.”

 

Kurt sat back and pinched his lips together. The bulge of his tongue poked into his cheek.

 

“I just can’t wait. _All_ the Warblers will be there.”

 

The color drained from Kurt’s already pale cheeks, and he looked over to the window. “Well. I can’t wait either. What a treat that’ll be.”

 

There was no reason for Kurt to sound so abashed, and yet he did. Maybe he expected the Warblers to pull something, or mock his performance. There had been tensions for a year, as far as Sebastian could tell... but the Warblers, or some of them, really did seem to like Kurt. One or two seemed to miss him more than Blaine, which had only come out recently. It was like they had been afraid to say so.

 

Blaine returned with his coffee and a couple of biscotti in hand. “Ah. Finally. When did this place get so popular? I don’t know why these kids can’t just go to Starbucks, or something. So, what’s up?”

 

“The meerkat was just leaving,” Kurt said flatly.

 

Blaine frowned and reached for the sugar as he sat beside Sebastian. “You don’t wanna stay?”

 

Sebastian stood. “No, we have extra practices these days. Between that and lacrosse, and sleeping with half of Ohio, I’m actually pretty busy.”

 

The corners of Kurt’s lips twitched.

 

“But meerkat... I like that.” Sebastian paused, holding his coffee up to his mouth. “The _gayest_ of all Disney talking animals.”

 

Now Kurt was biting down on his lip. 

 

_You think I’m funny,_ Sebastian sang to himself in his head.

 

 


	7. Chapter Seven

**Kurt**

 

Life was a disaster. A daily, unending, slow-motion disaster. He was still part of the Glee club, and hadn’t left the play yet, and somehow he was _still_ getting heat from everyone around him for not being enough of a ‘team player.’ Finn and Blaine were at each other’s throats. And ever since Kurt had told Mercedes what had happened at Scandals, she’d been subtly, and not so subtly, encouraging him to ditch Blaine.

 

In the meantime, he’d been chasing down leads and doing auditions on his own time, leaving him utterly exhausted. There wasn’t a lot he could go in for, not immediately. There were plays that had already been cast a month ago, and he was kicking himself for not being more proactive, not finding _more_ to put on his resume in the last four years. For trusting his talent to overcome the prejudice of the people around him. For trusting the people he’d called friends. 

 

Then, suddenly, Kurt’s search paid off. The new heads of the Shakespeare Festival emailed him back.

 

_We’re so glad to hear from you, Kurt. As you know, Katy and John are back at school for the semester, but Darla and I are running things during the year, and we remember your audition so well. We were extremely disappointed you couldn’t work with us for the summer festival, but we talked it over, and we feel that you didn’t really need the extra practice. There are a few actors following through from the summer, but enough people moved on that there are plenty of parts to be had. Below is a list of open parts and the dates each play will be running, so please let us know as soon as possible so we can exclude them from the casting call we’re putting up at OSU and community spaces. We’d love to have you with us this year._

 

And that was it. Kurt gave them a call to ask about how he’d fit his rehearsal times in between his current activities, and suddenly he had _three_ upcoming plays to put on his resume, with _his choice_ of parts. Neither director had a qualm about any of the parts Kurt had suggested himself for. 

 

It meant his schedule was incredibly packed, but Kurt felt more confident with a thicker resume and getting to work with directors who appreciated his abilities. Darla and Jean were super nice, but they also gave very focused feedback. He trusted that they knew what they were talking about.

 

He even added Ohio State to his list of places to apply, non-ironically. He’d prefer to attend at the main campus and not the one nearby (why stay in Lima if he could _physically_ get out?), but if they produced programs like this one, it might be worth it to check out. Darla had also suggested Kent State, for their musical theatre program. Kurt really wanted to live in New York... but he could do with a few back-up schools that weren’t just as expensive as his top choices, as was the case between NYU and NYADA.

 

Thus, Kurt walked into the choir room more than a little exhausted. _West Side Story_ would open this Friday night, and Kurt would begin his turn as Ariel in _The Tempest_ on Saturday afternoon. It was, of course, not at all a musical, but the directors had worked in a few sections for Ariel to be singing his arias in the background.

 

The other students were already talking to one another. The members they had _left_ , anyway. Mercedes, Santana, and Brittany were gone. For some reason Kurt was supposed to be thrilled that they’d _added_ a boy who could sing falsetto, even though the club had never found use for their countertenor before (unless Kurt or Finn had done the arrangement). Kurt went over to the chair by the window and climbed up on it.

 

Outside, he could see the courtyard, where people ate lunch sometimes, and the steps that came up beside them, where people sometimes sang or hung out. He could almost see them, his friends and himself, dancing on the stairs wearing sunglasses and baseball caps. Singing “New York, New York” through the streets of the city that never sleeps and annoying all the pedestrians. Getting food thrown at them by other students. His time with the Glee club had been equal parts support and humiliation, it seemed. 

 

Was this what friendship was like? He had little basis for comparison. He’d only had one or two friends in junior high. There had been none when he’d come to McKinley. He had been worse than invisible at this school, which had been both a blessing and a curse really. People could see him well enough when they needed someone to beat, stalk, or mock. When he needed help, they usually walked by. Glee club, at least, provided something to do with other people, but... That really hadn’t changed their overall treatment of him. Not when he really looked back on it.

 

“Hey.”

 

Kurt sighed and looked down to see Blaine peering up at him. “Hey.”

 

They had talked, eventually, about the play... about Scandals. Kurt had echoed a few of the points that Finn and Mercedes had made, only more gently. Blaine had been put out at first that Kurt was upset about it at all, but after losing Kurt most afternoons to auditioning, he’d come by the garage to ask Kurt to stop shutting him out.

 

Kurt had explained to Blaine that he was welcome to come along on his auditions, but he had to think about his future. No one else would.

 

The talk about Scandals... It had somehow drifted from Kurt’s complaints about Blaine’s focus on another guy and his inability to take no for an answer... to Kurt wishing that he could’ve been more fun and Blaine assuring him that Sebastian didn’t “mean anything.” And Kurt was assured, a bit. But he was also dissatisfied, and frustrated.

 

“Um, how is it up there?” Blaine asked.

 

“You could come up.” Kurt crossed his arms on the window sill and rested his chin on them. A couple of boys came to the stairs outside, cigarettes in hand, and sat down.

 

“The view from here is pretty nice,” Blaine teased, lecherously.

 

Kurt didn’t answer. He was watching one of the boys, ever so stealthily, slip his hand behind their backs. The other boy took it. Eventually, Blaine pushed a chair closer and got up there with him.

 

“What are you even looking at up here?” Blaine asked. 

 

“Reality.”

 

Blaine frowned. “What?”

 

“It’s no use,” Quinn said, from her seat. “When I asked him, he told me he was looking at the future.”

 

“I was. But you can’t see it from here anymore,” Kurt replied. He threw a teasing glance her way.

 

“Thanks, oh, cryptic one,” Quinn shook her head.

 

Behind them, Mr. Schue clapped his hands together to call them to order. Blaine hopped down at once, then turned around to offer Kurt a hand.

 

He considered not taking it. Blaine was so chivalrous about opening doors and offering a hand when Kurt didn’t need it. It was a performance of superficial genteel masculinity. These actions removed barriers for Kurt that didn’t actually exist. He could get the damn door himself. But Blaine wasn’t as willing to help Kurt get things he really needed, that people actively blocked him from.

 

In the end, he took the hand. He wanted to feel the closeness (however artificial) with Blaine. Like maybe in some way, Blaine really did care about his well-being, even if he was utterly obtuse in other ways.

 

“As you know,” Mr. Schue continued. “We’ll be launching the play this week.”

 

A small cheer came from the front row of students, and Blaine. Kurt gave a polite golf clap.

 

“So that means, soon, we’ll have more room for extra practices.” Mr. Schue began writing on the board. “We need to really ramp things up so we’re ready in time for Sectionals, and we have some of the toughest competition ever.”

 

“Yes, because you drove away some of our best singers,” Quinn said in an almost bored tone.

 

Mr. Schue half-turned his head to look at her in surprise. Quinn had been doing that ever since Mercedes had left, calling him out in a way that she hadn’t bothered to do before.

 

“Well, regardless, we all have to work together,” Rachel chimed in.

 

Schue pointed at her. “Right. Okay. Here’s our new practice schedule.”

 

Kurt got out his planner to write it all down. Then, mid-stroke, he frowned. He raised his hand.

 

“Mr. Schue?”

 

When the teacher didn’t answer, Kurt called his name again and waited for him to turn around.

 

“So that’s booty camp every day directly after school, and then full rehearsals on Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday afternoons-” Mr. Schue said as he turned.

 

Kurt straighten his hand and started to tap his foot.

 

“And that will be for _everyone_ , no exceptions.” Mr. Schue put his hands on his hips. “Yes, Kurt?”

 

“I can’t do Saturdays and Wednesdays. At least not Saturday afternoons. Couldn’t we do Saturday mornings? Don’t people have to do the play later on?” Kurt said.

 

“Nice try, but the play is in the evenings,” Mr. Schue said. “And we’ll be skipping next Wednesday and picking up after that.”

 

“Well, I still can’t come,” Kurt said with the shrug. “And I don’t know why it’s such an inconvenience to do it a few hours earlier.”

 

“Because we have morning football practices,” Finn said. “And the Cheerios practice Saturday mornings, too.”

 

“We don’t really have any more Cheerios left,” Quinn pointed out.

 

“These aren’t optional, Kurt,” Mr. Schue said in a polite, but stern tone.

 

“Neither is actually showing up for the _other_ play I’m in, and they were nice enough to work their rehearsal schedule around _yours_. If you’d told me before the week we open, I could’ve _done_ something about it,” Kurt said. He was trying not to get testy, but he was tired, and he’d had enough of exceptions existing for everyone else but him. “We perform on Saturdays, Sundays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, and that’s going on for pretty much the rest of the year, since in between plays, we’ll be rehearsing for the next one.” 

 

“Maybe you should’ve asked what our upcoming schedules would be,” Mr. Schue said. He only sounded slightly scolding.

 

“Maybe if I joined the football team again, I’d get preferential treatment,” Kurt snapped.

 

A quiet round of “oohh” went around the room.

 

Mr. Schue crossed his arms. Kurt crossed one arm over himself and waited to see if he was going to be ejected from the club or sent to the principal’s office.

 

“What play are you doing?” Rachel asked. “You never mentioned a play.”

 

“We’re doing _The Tempest_ first, and then _Twelfth Night_ , and in the spring, _Midsummer Night’s Dream_ ,” Kurt said flatly. “I’m playing Ariel, Sebastian, and Puck, respectively.”

 

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Tina asked.

 

Kurt shrugged. “I dunno. None of you asked? Finn knew. He drove me to rehearsal a few times.”

 

“I just figured if I didn’t say anything, none of you would go try to steal the parts from him,” Finn said.

 

Rachel gaped like a fish. “Pardon. Finn? Was that-”

 

Finn slumped back in his chair. “You know what you did. I don’t wanna talk about it. It isn’t fair, and you know it. I don’t think you should rag on him about practices, either, Mr. Schue. You’ve never added extra rehearsals before, and Kurt picks up stuff so fast, he can probably get it in one practice anyway. We haven’t even gotten our set list together yet, so I don’t know what we’re going to be working so hard on.”

 

Mr. Schue licked his lips and frowned deeply, seeming to consider that. “I have been thinking about it, Finn. We’ve just needed to get our members up to par, first.”

 

Kurt rubbed his temple as the tension in the room grew thicker.

 

“Oh, my _God._ This is so _dumb_ ,” Puck said. “Some of us _aren’t Jesusy_ , you know. Like, really? After we get up at the ass crack of dawn on Saturday for football, I hit the showers and go to synagogue with my Nana at 11am. I’m not freakin’ skipping it because I have to come here and have you tell us all how much we suck for a few more hours.”

 

“Puck, of course, your church service is important-” Mr. Schue said.

 

“ _Synagogue_ ,” Puck corrected. “Why don’t we do it on Sunday morning? Can’t see anything wrong with _that_ , can you?”

 

“Okay, okay. We’ll, um... I’ll keep working on the new rehearsal schedule,” Schue said finally.

 

“We should have more time after the musical,” Artie said. “It’s only for a week.”  


“Yeah, and until then, we could go ahead and start on Mondays and Wednesday,” Tina said, “And I’ll catch Kurt up before booty camp on Thursday.”

 

Kurt blinked in surprise. For the first time since Mercedes had asked, he was glad he’d promised to Finn he wouldn’t leave the club.

 

“That’s... that’s good for now.” Mr. Schue nodded, as though he’d been any part of the actual solution. “Now, let’s do some exercises before you have to go to home room.”

 

After the bell rang, Kurt collected his things and headed for the door. 

 

“That was something,” Blaine muttered. “We never had fights like that in the Warblers.”

 

“You have a selective memory. I remember your suggesting we sing off campus, and Thad practically losing his damn mind,” Kurt replied. He lowered his voice, “You mock us, sir!”

 

“Schue’s not gonna be satisfied until we’re all bleeding show tunes,” Puck said as he walked by.

 

“Hm. Sorry you almost got left out of that,” Kurt said. 

 

Puck shrugged. “I think Nana would understand, but I gotta step up for the other Puck, huh?” He laughed and nudged Kurt’s shoulder.

 

“I’m probably not gonna be wearing a mohawk for the part.” Kurt smiled. “But I’ll suggest it to wardrobe.”

 

“When does the play start?” Rachel asked. “Are you going to make it back in time for the weekend show?”

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Yes. I’ll be there with my police uniform and comically oversized hat on. We start at 2:00pm, and it should run three hours. If I don’t hit traffic, I’ll be back here for you guys.”

 

“That’s... cutting it close,” Artie said.

 

“Well, it’s not like I need to warm up my vocals. I’ll be there when you actually need me.” Kurt turned and walked away from them. 

 

Blaine jogged up to follow. “C’mon, don’t take it out on Artie, just because of Mr. Schue.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“You’re being really short with everyone today,” Blaine said. “Can’t you be a little nicer?”

 

“I’ve been nice for three years. Look where it’s gotten me. A bit part and no leeway whatsoever to get things that I _need._ But that isn’t important to them. Artie doesn’t care about me, and I’m not obligated to go out of my way to be polite to someone who laughs at me. Honestly. _Puck_ spends more time giving a damn than a lot of people in that room.”

 

“I dunno. I just think you’re being kind of dramatic.”

 

“Well, I am going into theatre.” Kurt slammed his locker. “Don’t worry. You’re not obligated to come see me.”

 

“I- I, um, what?”

 

“I don’t expect you to come to my opening... afternoon. I know you have the play the first week. It’ll be easier that way, anyway. I won’t have to worry about what you guys are thinking, just get comfortable in the part.”

 

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I mean, we hadn’t talked about it, but-”

 

“No, I just... wanted to head off another fight, if you were concerned about that and not telling me. I don’t expect it, so don’t worry.”

 

“I’m come, though. After the play is over,” Blaine offered weakly.

 

“Well, you know what days we’re doing it, so... let me know when you want a ticket, and I’ll get you one close up.” Kurt smiled softly and leaned back against his locker. “It’ll be a huge surprise. We’ve both been so busy that you haven’t even seen me in costume yet.”

 

“Yeah. Is it... What does Ariel wear? Are you really playing a guy named Sebastian?”

 

Kurt swatted his arm. “He is nothing like the club bunny you made me spend the evening with.”

 

“Sebastian is not that bad. I don’t know why you dislike him so much.”

 

“I guess you just haven’t been there when he... He’s like the boy version of Santana, without the soft underbelly of sweetness she tries like hell to hide.”

 

Blaine laughed softly. “So... you’re free tonight, after rehearsal, right?”

 

Kurt cocked a brow. “Yeah. This week.”

 

“My parents won’t be home until late.”

 

“Oh...” Kurt felt his cheeks flushing. Blaine grinned and reached up to stroke the side of Kurt’s face. He caught himself, though. Kurt sighed and rubbed his thumb over his own fingers. “Well, I’m pretty tired now, but maybe after rehearsal, you and I fire up that fancy espresso machine of yours and see where the evening takes us.”

 

“Yeah!” Blaine could’ve pumped his fist in that moment.

 

Kurt felt his heart speeding up and joy flooding his chest. To see Blaine so excited... They’d still been taking things at a glacial pace since Scandals, and while Kurt didn’t want to be groped in the back of the car while Blaine thought about Sebastian, he had been hoping that Blaine would get interested in doing more with Kurt than just hanging out.

 

As awful as things had seemed to be a month ago, they were finally turning around. Blaine touched Kurt’s shoulder before leaving for class, then jogged a few steps and fell in with Rachel.

 

“I’ve got it scheduled. It’s your turn,” Blaine said.

 

“Scheduled...?”

 

“Our acting activity!”

 

“Ohhh...” Rachel looked back at Kurt.

 

Kurt frowned and turned to walk in the other direction.

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Sebastian**

 

On Friday, Sebastian got home in record time, darted into the kitchen, grabbed a TyNant and the snack plate that Marie always left him before she got done for the day, and hurried upstairs before his little sister could catch him and talk his ear off.

 

Apparently, he wasn’t quick enough, because just as he was setting the plate of prosciutto and gruyere pinwheels with sliced papaya down on the side of his desk, the sound of tiny feet thundering up the stairs caught his attention. He took an extra step and locked his door. The pounding of her tiny fists against his door came a moment later.

 

“Go away, fetus! I’m busy!” he yelled.

 

“Bastian! Bastian! Bastian! Lemme in!” she squealed in between giggles, mangling his name.

 

“SEBastian,” he muttered, sitting in his computer chair and swirling around to prop his feet on a footstool. Clarisse continued to pound on his door and whine while Sebastian checked Facebook like a deprived crack addict (the teachers at Dalton took phones away during class if they saw them out). 

 

Eventually, Sebastian heard Marie scolding Clarisse for making “sooch a rookus!” and presumed that Marie had carried her away. Clarisse was only five years old, but Sebastian was sure she had ADHD or one of those personality disorders that would soon result in her cutting up cats or hiding people’s ears in her toy box.

 

“Y’had to marry a teenager, didn’t’cha, dad?” Sebastian grumbled. There wasn’t too much of interest on Facebook. Not among his friends, and not on the walls of the other show choirs he was stalking. He’d expanded his plans to other groups that the Warblers would be up against, but since their Sectionals competition wasn’t very strong, he’d spent less time thinking about reconnaissance. 

 

In any case, it was easier to motivate the boys when it came to a single rival, rather thansplitting their focus to give a damn about another group with a vaguely sexual name. Being up against Nude Erections and the Blow Jobs for Regionals was really, really _enough_.

 

Sebastian took a long sip of his TyNant and picked up a slice of papaya as he scanned over Kurt’s page. Something had happened. He wasn’t sure what, but Blaine had left several messages that week.

 

_r we still on for tnght? ;)_

 

_I’m a coffee zombie. BEAAAANS._ Kurt had replied.

 

Sebastian covered his lips. He was _not_ laughing at something that silly.

 

_u kno what i mean,_ Blaine had continued.

 

Then, the next day, Blaine had written on Kurt’s wall again, asking if Kurt was tired, if he’d gotten enough sleep. Then, later that day, he made a post about hand lotion. Kurt made a noncommittal comment about the usefulness of the brand that Blaine kept by his bed, then said he’d message him on chat. By Wednesday, Blaine was asking him over for coffee again, but Kurt didn’t answer. He probably had answered that in the chat, too.

 

Sebastian ran his fingers back and forth over his lips. Come over for coffee. Then tired, then lotion...

 

“Oh, they’re _fucking_ ,” Sebastian said with disgust. 

 

Not that it was any of his business. Not that he _cared_. Kurt was a label queen of questionable taste, and Blaine was a small town brat with delusions of grandeur. What did he care if they had sweaty, awkward sex together while Blaine irreparably stained Kurt’s faux designer sheets with his raspberry-scented hair gel?

 

“Gross.” Sebastian made a face of disgust and put down the pinwheel he’d been about to bite into. He rose and went to his closet to pick out his outfit. 

 

It took an embarassing amount of time to select what he wanted to wear. He’d laid something out the day before, but he was dissatisfied with it. After wiping his mouth, he tried on a few of his sweaters, then a shirt/sweater vest combo. He decided he looked like a pedo art teacher who rapped in his spare time. So he stripped it off.

 

Why did he care so damn much what he looked like, when the only people watching him tonight would be classless public school kids and a label queen who couldn’t afford the labels?

 

Sebastian stood in front of his mirror, shirtless, for several minutes. If he were going out to the club, he would wear a polo and a regular pair of pants. But he could hear Kurt’s voice in his head at all of his usual selections: 

 

“How _typical_. Did you get them at Smug Douche Outfitters?”

 

“Ugh.” Sebastian’s lip curled up and he shook his head at himself. 

 

Going back to his closet, he put his hands on his hips and scrutinized the hanging shirts and pants closely. Finally, he pulled out one of this dress shirts (blue) and a fitted vest with embossed buttons (slate gray). Normally he would’ve worn it to a formal event, but today, he donned both items, rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt to mid-forearm, and then pulled on a pair of worn (snug) jeans. Then he went into the bathroom connected to his bedroom and brushed out his hair. He could coif it up a bit better.

 

“No CW hair tonight, Princess.”

 

\---

 

“Wow,” Nick said when he spotted Sebastian. His eyes raked over Sebastian as he strolled forward from his car.

 

“You still trying to snag Blaine?” Trent asked.

 

“Not even in the slightest.” Sebastian looked around at the group of boys (and a few of their girlfriends from Crawford) milling around in Wes’s front yard. “Is this everyone? Who do we have driving?”

 

To save on gas, Sebastian had convinced the boys to carpool, which meant he spent the next few minutes counting everyone off and sending them into the bigger vehicles. His Audi wasn’t huge, but he could fit four comfortably, and so selected Nick, David, August, and Neil, to make sure he had the most entertaining conversationalists out of the group.

 

“No matter what happens tonight,” David said from the backseat, “I would really prefer that we keep things classy.”

 

Sebastian made a noise in his throat. He should’ve swapped David for Andre. 

 

“I’m serious. Tonight, we’re representatives of Dalton Academy. So it’s not in our best interests to start things. No sneaking around in their hallways, no sabotaging the actors or the sound, or.. costumes...”

 

“David, I’m Machiavellian, not _evil_ ,” Sebastian said. “What do you think I’m going to do, show up and take in the leading lady’s costumes by an inch to make her freak out about gaining weight? Change all their background music to Gregorian chanting?”

 

“Maybe not, but you _should_ ,” Nick said. “Because that would be hi _lari_ ous.”

 

“Stop,” David admonished.

 

“I think it’s enough that we’re gonna all be able to scope out the competition,” August said. “That way when our musical launches later this month, we and the Crawford girls can be confident.”

 

Sebastian nodded, although he’d declined to audition for the musical. He had enough on his plate, between leading the Warblers, espionage, lacrosse, and now the debate team. Besides, he’d done _West Side Story_ before, and he wasn’t particularly interested in any of the leads right now. He definitely wasn’t interested in playing back-up to anyone this year.

 

August and Neil continued to discuss the goings on of the play, and which girls were fighting with one another. Apparently their Maria and Anita were madly in love but having some kind of dramatic relationship, and Anita was pissed that Maria had a rep for being the lady-killer around the school, and had within the past year deflowered Francesca AND the girl who had come in at the last moment to play Officer Krupke.

 

“Good God, you guys. You’re a bunch of clucking hens back there,” Sebastian groaned. 

 

Nick laughed. “Ignore him. Sebastian’s in withdrawal.”

 

“I’m not a tweaked out twinkie, Nick.”

 

“Ass withdrawal. He needs some good ass,” Nick continued gravely.

 

Sebastian deliberately gave the car a swerve. 

 

“Whoa!” August said.

 

“Hey, man! Take it easy!” Neil said.

 

“I don’t need to hear about the quality of ass I’m getting,” Sebastian said. “I’ve got enough going on. I’ll take care of my own ass.”

 

“That outfit says otherwise,” Nick said. “I thought Trent might prostrate himself in front of you.”

 

“Anything to break the evil spell Blaine has on him. What _is_ it? What does that guy _have_ on people? It makes absolutely no sense to me. Yeah, he’s passably _attractive_ \-- if you don’t mind wild, untamed muppet brows-- but it still doesn’t explain the devotion people have to him,” Sebastain complained.

 

“It’s probably witchcraft. He casts spells with his furry caterpillars,” Nick said.

 

Sebastian, stopping at a red light, turned to look at Nick, who grinned and waggled his eyebrows.

 

“I dunno. I mean, when he came in during the middle of freshman year, Thad was all about him,” David said. “He charmed some of the seniors, and they started putting him in charge of things. For the better part of the year it seemed like... Like he was making things better. More fun. Maybe it was situational. We’d just lost a member.”

 

“Oh, right,” August said. “I remember that. God.”

 

“What? Blaine replace your old star? Who did you lose? Did he leave?” Sebastian asked. 

 

“No, he _died_. He had cancer,” David said. “Adrian Piers. He’d been sick for a while, and _everyone_ liked him. But he died, suddenly, and we were all... I can’t even describe it. It was just so _hard_ to really do much with the group. We came in every day, practiced our scales, did our basic songs, but our hearts weren’t there. Every time we saw one another, we were sad, because Adrien was gone, y’know? We didn’t even go to Sectionals that year. We collectively decided that it wasn’t worth the stress, since a few of Adrien’s close friends had abruptly stopped coming to any of their clubs.”

 

“So... Blaine came shortly after and he... what? Taught you to live again?” Sebastian asked skeptically. 

 

“No.” August made a grumpy noise. “He was just good at talking to you about the things you were interested in. He made friends easily, and he got us in the habit of doing songs in the middle of the day, doing more pop songs, just having _fun_. It felt really good, at the time.”

 

Sebastian scowled. It sounded really opportunistic, is what it sounded like.

 

“I didn’t know ‘im,” Nick said. “I didn’t join until last year. But you hear things, I guess. Blaine was really popular. Jeff and I knew who he was before we decided to try out for the Warblers.”

 

“He’s older, too.” Neil added.

 

“What?” Sebastian asked.

 

“Yeah, he had to repeat a year when he switched, so he was driving before all of us,” Neil said. “After school, he’d take us places in his car.”

 

Sebastian shook his head. “So, basically, he’s the Wonder Boy of the Warblers because he could drive and because he came in when everyone was in mourning?”

 

“Well, no,” David said. “He’s also a very talented singer.”

 

“Davy, boy, I love you like a brother, man, but I’m telling you, he’s not. If they really did make the mistake of giving him a part, I think you’ll realize that when you see him on stage. Absence will _not_ make the heart grow fonder, here.”

 

In fact, that had been one reason he’d tried to get as many Warblers to come as possible. If they could just _listen_ to this clown after being out of his spell for so long, maybe it would finally dawn on them that they were better off without him.

 

“It’s like what he did to Kurt,” Nick muttered.

 

“What?” Sebastian tried to focus on the road. He was tired of talking about those two, but he couldn’t help but be interested.

 

“When Kurt came to us... The harassment at his old school was really, really bad,” Nick explained. 

 

“I remember the day he came to check us out. I mean, I guess he was spying, but he wasn’t sneaking around,” David said. “He just came and watched us do a midday number, smiling and clapping along.”

 

“Dork,” Sebastian muttered.

 

“He was just so sweet about it. _I_ found it endearing,” David said. “Anyway, we invited him to coffee, and he showed up, a little nervous. He thought we might hurt him. He also thought that we were all gay, which was pretty cute. Apparently one of the kids in his club told him he should come join us. Go flock with the other gay boys.”

 

“Those guys sound like such dicks,” Nick said.

 

“Yeah. So what did Blaine do to Kurt?” Sebastian asked.

 

“Kurt started getting a little upset, as we talked to him. So Blaine encouraged Wes and I to leave, so he could talk to him alone. I don’t know what he said to him, but after that, Blaine was the one he was spending time with,” David said. 

 

“Even after Kurt’s parents convinced him to transfer to Dalton, Blaine stuck right by Kurt’s side,” Nick said. “He would seek him out during study hours and then start a song with him, or something. In a way, Kurt seemed to find it comforting to have someone there, but it also seemed like... He was in the middle of this _huge_ emotional upheaval, and Blaine got whatever he wanted from Kurt because Kurt wasn’t strong enough to fight anymore. I mean, that’s why Kurt _came_ to Dalton. When I asked him, because he was always concerned about the tuition cost, he said that he had agreed because he needed a break from feeling absolutely terrified all the time.”

 

Sebastian slowed the car slightly. He was getting distracted.“So... the kids were really hurting him?”

 

“Well, yes. In part. He still had some fading bruises when he came to us. Still, I think it was more psychological,” David said. “It was as though everything had worn him down, and now a greater threat was coming at him, and he didn’t have the reserves to handle it anymore.”

 

“Then why did he go back?”

 

“I don’t think he liked Dalton, to be honest,” August said. “He didn’t have that many friends, and some of the boys are snobby.”

 

“Yeah, I get that part. There are a lot of stuck up preppies at this school,” Sebastian said. When Nick laughed, Sebastian glared at him. “My father might be a well-off and influential lawyer, and the whelp he married might be an heiress, but there’s a difference between me and the feckless self-absorbed pricks at Dalton. I mean, outside of the Warblers.”

 

“Okay, whatever. I’m sure Kurt doesn’t really see the difference.”

 

“Well, what can you expect from a garage monkey,” Sebastian sneered.

 

That caused uproarious laughter from all the inhabitants of his car. 

 

“I’m going to throw you all out,” Sebastian warned.

 

“You are not. We’re almost here,” David said.

 

“It’s just funny to hear you make fun of Kurt’s background just after complaining about the snobs at our school,” Nick said.

 

“Can he really fix cars?” Sebastian asked.

 

“He fixed Thad’s car in the parking lot,” Neil offered. “A lot of the boys made fun of him for that. Quietly, and where the other teachers and most of us couldn’t hear, but still. It was like he was from an alien planet, being able to do something with his hands.”

 

“He got so tired of putting up with their passive aggressive bullshit that he started wearing these weird animal broaches every day. Which is allowed, actually,” Nick said. “I thought it was hilarious. One day it was this hippo with sharp teeth, one day a huge sparkly tarantula.”

 

“Oh, I remember those,” David cooed. “He’s so sweet. I miss him.”

 

“He’ll be there. You can catch up,” Sebastian said. “He’s not that hard to follow on Facebook, either. He doesn’t keep nearly enough stuff private, although I’ve noticed that he blocks quickly. Every once and a while, someone will come on his page and start flinging around ‘fag’ and they’re gone in seconds, unless he unleashes verbal damnation upon them.”

 

“Aw,” David said.

 

“Don’t ‘aw.’ He’s like a valkyrie of anti-social media bullying.”

 

“That makes sense,” Nick said. “He has zero patience for people who aren’t honest to his face. And languages are his strongest subjects. I bet he can really trounce people online. It’s different from dealing with those big guys ganging up on him in school, following him around and making _gestures_ , all that stuff.”

 

Sebastian nodded and grew quiet. It made a little more sense, the way Kurt put his shields up so quickly, now that he knew what Kurt had lived through. Sebastian hadn’t been entirely _free_ from bullying himself, but his father had been a litigator before becoming a state attorney. If Sebastian so much as breathed a sense of dissatisfaction with his school, they would be hearing from his father. He couldn’t imagine going to this school _every day_.

 

When they arrived at the school, Sebastian looked over it dismissively. It was like he could smell the poor financial decisions of their school board from the parking lot, which was small and wasn’t even fenced in. 

 

“I hope I don’t catch herpes from their seats,” Sebastian muttered as he clicked the button to lock his car.

 

David patted his back. “You’re _so_ much better than the other preppies at Dalton.”

 

“You’re the BEST preppy,” Nick said with a big smile.

 

“You guys need to shut it.”

 

But he wasn’t too bothered. If he was a preppy and a snob, the other Warblers were, too. None of _them_ had a mechanic for a dad. None of them had come to Dalton on scholarship. They were all a piece, in that respect.

 

They entered the school and looked for the box office... which was a little table outside of the auditorium. It had been a little while since Sebastian had slunk around these halls. It seemed even smaller and dingier than he’d remembered.

 

And it smelled. It was musty. Sebastian focused on trying to block out the scent.

 

As the other Warblers filtered in, they stood around for a little while, then headed in to secure a block of seats. A few started looking through their playbills, which sported the same design as the flyers had. 

 

“How do they manage to have such pathetic decorations outside and such nice playbills?” Sebastian paused. “With such... _detailed_ ads for funeral parlors?”

 

“Probably because Kurt made these,” Trent said. “It really looks like something he’d whip up on his dad’s computer.”

 

“Is there anything the boy _can’t_ do...” Sebastian muttered.

 

Finally, the lights lowered, and the play began. Sebastian sat up expectantly and watched as the Jets and the Sharks started to come out, dance fighting around one another. The choreography was not particularly ambitious, but they had a few leaders who weren’t too bad at it. Sebastian leaned forward trying to figure out which ones were Sharks and which were Jets. It was a bit impossible to tell, from the costumes.

 

Then a loud police whistle rang out, and onto the stage strolled two actors in impeccably clean police uniforms, with oddly oversized hats. 

 

“Weird,” a voice breathed behind him.

 

“”Knock it off! Settle down!” the skinny cop shouted in what sounded like a Brooklyn accent. “Jeezus!”

 

The other cop, who appeared to actually be a girl with thick glasses, strong armed one of the boys, came forward and yelled, “All right! All right! Kill each other! But not on my beat!”

 

“Well, if it isn’t Lieutenant Schrank!” the good dancer said to the girl.

 

“Top of the day, Lieutenant Schrank!” the boys behind him cheered.

 

“And Officer Krupke!” said a boy with a mohawk, and the most pitiful Spanish accent Sebastian had ever heard. Bernardo?

 

“Top of the day, Officer Krupke!” the boys behind Mohawk cheered.

 

Krupke shook a finger at them and started to lung forward, but Schrank caught him.

 

“Are they supposed to be Irish or Southern or..?” Trent asked quietly.

 

“Shh,” said Wes.

 

Sebastian guessed the directors hadn’t bothered to standardize their accents.

 

“Boy, what you Puerto Ricans have done to this neighborhood! Which one of ‘em clobbered ya, A-rab?” Schrank was big and loud, and she didn’t use much of any kind of accent. She also had the bulk of the lines in this scene, but Sebastian kept looking to Krupke.

 

Because he was always _doing_ something. When Riff starting telling lies, Krupke started shaking his head and looking between Riff and Schrank, like“Can you believe this shit?” When Schrank was lecturing them, Krupke was getting into it with one of the Jets, getting his hat stolen, and losing his temper with them and stealing one of _their_ hats.

 

It took until the cops’ exit for Sebastian to realize that Krupke _was Kurt._

 

“What the _fuck?_ ” Sebastian said suddenly. He was shushed, but he was so shocked that he couldn’t care. He reached over and snatched Nick’s playbill and tried to squint at the cast list. Sure enough, Officer Krupke: Kurt Hummel. 

 

Who the hell had made _that_ decision? What was Sebastian going to have to listen to all night, instead of Kurt’s angelic counter-tenor effortlessly crooning “Maria”?

 

Sebastian’s questions were answered soon enough, and with crushing disappointment. There he was. Tony. With his hair slicked back and his costume just a hair too tight, mugging wildly as he interacted with Riff and completely turning “Something’s Coming” into a dudebro’s paradise. 

 

Blaine _fucking_ Anderson.

 

“Oh my God, I’m going to die. This is where I die, in this seat in a decrepit public school auditorium,” Sebastian said.

 

Another shush. But this time, Sebastian heard a few other murmurs of displeasure around him. 

 

“What happened to his voice?” Trent said gently, after the number was over.

 

Sebastian perked up. He might have to sit through this torture, but Trent! If Trent was beginning to see the light, the night might not have been in vain.

 

Although before the end of the first act, Sebastian was starting to believe his ears would suffer permanent damage. All of the Nude Erections’ greatest hits were on display tonight. Flat singing, scooping notes, sliding into pitches, yelling top-notes and/or just yelling the whole song, splitting notes, breathiness in the middle of the number... it just went on and on and on. 

 

And Mercedes Jones was nowhere to be seen. And Kurt was Krupke. It was a disaster. A complete joke.

 

Sebastian would’ve laughed, but somewhere at the end of the third scene, a headache stared pinching the top of his head; by the end of the first act, it was throbbing; and halfway through the second, he just closed his eyes and rubbed his temple, wondering if he could justify slipping into the hallway to get _away_ from the bad singing, awkward acting, and bizarre directorial choices.

 

Eventually, the decision was made for him. David whispered something about the bathroom, took his hand, and encouraged him with a tug to come along with him. They made their way to the aisle and then out of the auditorium.

 

“We don’t have to go together,” Sebastian grumbled. “We’re not girls.”

 

“Are you okay?” David said, ignoring Sebastian’s complaints. 

 

“Do I look okay?” Sebastian snapped. His eyes were only partially open, so he wasn’t sure if anyone else was out in the hallway. 

 

“C’mon. Let’s see if they have any ice at concessions.”

 

There wasn’t, but David found a soda machine, bought a drink, and wrapped his jacket around it and made Sebastian sit down and hold it over his head. 

 

“How did you even know?” Sebastian demanded.

 

“Psychic powers. It’s the secret of Dalton. We’re all mutant freaks.”

 

“You’re all nerds,” Sebastian muttered. He took in several deep breaths, and David sat beside him silently. After a while, Sebastian said, “What the hell was that in there?”

 

“A high school musical,” David answered in a gentle tone, barely above a whisper.

 

“Ugh.”

 

“What were you expecting?”

 

“Honestly...” Sebastian spoke quietly as well, in deference to the evil that seemed to be birthing itself in his head. “I expected... David, I watched those auditions. Every agonizing minute of them. I expected to see Kurt as Tony, and Jones as Maria. I had _no doubt_. From the auditions, those were the _only_ options. I expected it to be _decent_.”

 

David put his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and stroked his back with his thumb. “I admit that, while I’ve always liked Kurt, I never really considered him to be a game-changer when it came to vocals. He didn’t do us much good at Regionals last year.”

 

“That’s because you paired him up with that screeching, straining _jerk._ Blaine can’t harmonize well with Kurt because he doesn’t have much range, and he sings too loud, so Kurt has to go above or below him. Believe me, I watched and unfortunately listened to last year’s competitions more times than I could count. They were mismatched. Kurt would’ve sounded better with you, or Nick, or Wes, or anyone else. But I think you guys were just idiots not to just give him lead on a song.”

 

“I see,” David replied mildly. 

 

“Have you even _heard_ old school a capella? It’s all about the high notes, and Kurt doesn’t even have to reach into falsetto for that. His range is _just that broad_.”

 

“You really think a lot of him.”

 

Sebastian moved the bottle around to get another cold side. His headache wasn’t subsiding, but at least the bottle felt good.

 

“Shut up,” Sebastian muttered, finally.

 

David just rubbed his back and shoulders.

 

After a while, Sebastian became more determined to see the rest of that utter trainwreck than he was to fix his headache. He didn’t have any painkillers, there was no food to be had. He should’ve eaten the snack Marie had prepared.

 

“Are you sure you want to go back in?” David asked.

 

“Yes. It smells less in the auditorium anyway.” Sebastian opened the soda and took a drink. “Also, I’d hate to deprive you of this theatrical tour de force.”

 

David chuckled and took Sebastian’s hand so he could keep his eyes mostly closed, sparing them from the bright lights. 

 

“I can drive us all home, okay?” David offered.

 

“How did you get so far at Dalton being so nice?” 

 

“It’s my trademark,” David said easily.

 

Sebastian kept his eyes closed for most of the remainder of the play, aside from the few moments, and there weren’t many, when Krupke was onstage. That was because Kurt had so few lines, but still managed to pull focus, because he was so active in every scene. It was worth a few extra throbs in his head. The headache wasn’t going away any time tonight anyway.

 

By the end of the night, Sebastian was more irritated than in pain. They got so much of it so wrong. Blaine’s contributions didn’t get any better toward the end, nor did his acting.

 

Sebastian felt like his guts were bubbling up to a boil, like the inside of a kettle ready to blow. 

 

When it was finally over, Sebastian slipped out while everyone was clapping. He would never make it, if he had to hold his tongue for any longer. Before he knew it, he was entering the backstage area. The cast and crew were still onstage, making their bows. Extra bows for the spoiled pretenders in the lead. There, Sebastian waited, not knowing what he would do, or say, and willing himself to just leave. Just exit this building that smelled of lower middle class desperation and make David stop off at a Walgreens for the strongest dose of painkillers he could get over the counter.

 

A few moments later, though, the McKinley High idiots were flooding backstage, congratulating themselves, laughing and hugging one another. He couldn’t see Kurt anywhere. And at first, the cast didn’t see Sebastian, either.

 

He began to clap, slowly. The sound drew their attention.

 

“Wow. I have to say... I was definitely a skeptic walking in tonight, but now that I’ve _finally_ seen it...” he began. He could see Rachel Berry getting her back up and then relaxing as she anticipated his praise.

 

“You really put the ‘you’ve gotta be high’ in the high school musical,” Sebastian said, shaking his head.

 

“Hey...” Tina objected. 

 

“Shut up!” Puck snapped.

 

“From the missed dance steps-” He gestured to the football players. “- to the utterly tone deaf critical numbers, to the inexcusably lazy singing tricks-” He gestured to Rachel. “-to the leads having all the sexual chemistry of _wet cardboard_ , I don’t know how anyone in your audience survived long enough to applaud that hot mess.”

 

“I think they did a really good job!” Artie argued.

 

“Given the utter miscasting of _every. Single. Leading. Role?_ Not surprised. Nope.” Sebastian grinned and slipped one hand into his pocket. “But, yeah... No. You’re wrong. You _didn’t_ do a good job. You did a _terrible job_.”

 

“I’ve been waiting my whole life to play this role-” Rachel started.

 

“Then maybe you should’ve paid attention when you watched it at home with your rich daddies. It’s not ‘I just met a girl named _BARBRA_!”

 

“Why are you saying this to us?” Blaine said, furrowing his brows and clenching his teeth between words.

 

“I dunno. Could be because it’s true. It could be because you stole our musical after the semester started and had my boys freaking out. For _nothing_. Could be that if you idiots had any idea of how to assess the garbage you’re putting out there, you might be ten percent less annoying. _Maybe_.”

 

Santana lunged forward, unleashing a string of profanities in Spanish (some of which actually made sense), but she was caught by the other girls.

 

“You should probably just close the show, before word really starts to get around how _little_ you have to offer.” Sebastian gave them a smirk he truly hoped was insufferable and turned on his heel and strode out into the hallway.

 

_Now_ he felt better.

 


	9. Chapter Nine

**Kurt**

 

Kurt had been in the middle of unfastening his uniform when he heard the uproar on the other side of the stage. He’d declined to show for the curtain call. Everything was too exhausting, and he had to do this twice tomorrow, in between commuting back and forth to campus, so he’d planned to get things ready to go backstage and then head to straight bed.

 

He really didn’t feel like he belonged at the cast party, anyway.

 

Then, Kurt heard Puck yelling. Slowly, Kurt hung up his uniform jacket and strolled over. By the time he recognized the voice, everyone was clustered together so tightly that Kurt couldn’t get past them. Sebastian was unleashing the dragging of a lifetime, and Kurt couldn’t even get _close_.

 

“Do you think we’ll get bad reviews?” Rachel said in a panic, just after Sebastian had exited. “If this gets back to the deans at NYADA...!”

 

“ _I_ definitely wasn’t miscast,” Santana said. “I don’t know about _you_ freaks.”

 

“We have sexual chemistry!” Blaine objected, in Rachel’s general direction. “And I... I only missed a few steps...”

 

Kurt elbowed his way between his friends. They didn’t notice him, until he had to push Artie slightly to get past them.

 

“Sorry, Artie,” he said, tossing his police cap back and storming out the door. He heard a “whoo!” from Brittany.

 

“Hey!” Kurt yelled down the hallway. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”

 

Sebastian turned around, scrunching his brows together and opening his lips slightly in surprise.

 

“Where do you get off, judging _anyone_? Who even asked you to be here anyway?” Kurt snapped. “Maybe we don’t have a million dollar budget or special choreographers, and maybe _most_ of us can’t have our daddies to swoop in and make it all okay. Maybe most of us won’t ever get out of this goddamn _garbage pile_ of town, but you know what? We work hard, and we put _everything_ into these performances, and if you don’t like it, you can shut your spoiled, toxic black hole of a mouth!”

 

Sebastian raised his brows and raked his eyes over Kurt. “Wow.”

 

“What? Wh-whattareya gonna say? Funny to see a sissy faggot like me dressed as a big butch cop? You gonna call me _princess_ again? Make fun of my diction? I have news for you!” Kurt spat. “ _You’re_ gay! You’re mega twinkie _dick-sucking_ gay, Sebastian! Making fun of _me_ won’t change that!”

 

Sebastian licked his lips slowly, looking Kurt over once again. Kurt braced himself for the onslaught of offensive bile coming his way.

 

“I was just thinking... How super _hot_ you look like that...” Sebastian tilted his head to the left and lowered his lids, frowning deeply. “Tight cop pants. Rockin’ the wife-beater. Didn’t know you had pecs under all those layers. And your hair all...”

 

Sebastian let out a slow breath. Kurt began to turn scarlet.

 

“You’re a perv,” he replied in exasperation.

 

“Like you said, I’m _gay_. And you’re _gorgeous_. Whattaya expect me to say?” Sebastian said with a smile. “For what it’s worth, what little they gave you was really good. You’re a good actor. At first I didn’t even recognize you, _or_ your voice. That accent...”

 

“I was doing an impression of my dad,” Kurt blurted, uncertain how to respond.

 

“I think I need to meet him. He seems like a hilarious guy.”

 

“He can be.” 

 

The two of them were quiet for a long moment, staring one another down. Kurt still felt the fire stirring in his chest.

 

“I don’t know what you’re trying to pull, but I’m not letting you get away with it. We’re not going to wither away just because you spewed your hate all over them.”

 

“I notice you don’t say _us_. I’m not apologizing. I’m _right_ ,” Sebastian insisted. “I’m sorry I was mean to your friend the other night, but I’m _not_ sorry for telling them the truth in there. Not everyone was terrible, but most of it was. And I came here, after seeing your auditions, knowing that they only had _one choice_ for Maria and Tony, and they blew it. They blew every chance they had to make this production worthwhile, and they’ll blow every chance they have during competition season this year, too. Just you watch.”

 

Kurt found himself almost choking on the heart lodged in his throat. 

 

“But you know that already, don’t you?” Sebastian said. “You know that no matter how hard you work, it’ll never be enough for _them_. It’ll never move them, no matter how good you are. Your teachers and friends are nothing but a homophobic cum stain on tapestry of your life. You need to get some OxiClean and wash that shit out before you’re stuck with the mark.”

 

Kurt shook his head. “That is such a _lovely_ metaphor, Sebastian.”

 

“You should’ve been the lead. You have flaws as a singer, you do, but if they gave a damn, if they tried, your teachers could train those out _easily_ , and the judges would be fawning all over you!” Sebastian shook his head. His hair, which Kurt had noticed for the first time was styled up, and not back, flopped along with the motion. 

 

“Look, I know I’ve pissed you off beyond belief, but if you want ‘featured soloist’ on your C.V. this year, you should come back with the Warblers. I’m in charge. I’ll make sure that we put you on lead to a song that highlights your strengths.” Sebastian spread his hands. “It’s your only shot.”

 

“I can’t do that.” Kurt felt lost in this conversation. Sebastian’s agenda was nothing like he’d imagined it to be. “I promised my brother I’d stay.”

 

“Then your brother doesn’t give a shit about you,” Sebastian said with a shrug. “People like us, Kurt, we’ve got to take every hand up we can, because we work’ll ten times as hard to get half as far. Look, you’ve got my number. You can stick around here and get your kumbyayas on with the Lima Loser Pity Party, or you can get what you need before it’s too late.”

 

Kurt crossed his arms and looked at Sebastian more closely. He was dressed... nicely. Not like a douchebro or a baby frat. Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt spotted a few of the other Warblers that he remembered wandering into the hallway. Then, he realized that behind him, there were more than a few Glee clubbers looking on.

 

Sebastian rubbed the side of his head then slowly turned around and headed toward his friends.

 

“Sebastian...” Kurt said half-heartedly.

 

Sebastian paused, then turned back slightly. Kurt found himself stuck for something to say.

 

“Just don’t block my number yet, okay?” Sebastian said.

 

Kurt bobbed his head in bewilderment. How was it that Sebastian Smythe was one of the few people in the world who looked at Kurt when he performed, and saw what he himself saw?

 

**Sebastian**

 

When Sebastian walked into The Lima Bean, he flashed back to the moment he met Kurt. His initial plans to use Blaine as an unwitting supply of information on the Nude Erections had essentially fizzled, in part due to how utterly intolerable Blaine’s lack of personality was upon repeated exposure. That day, Kurt had looked both smooth and severe. Beautiful in his (somewhat justified) anger.

 

Today, Kurt was just as striking, although in a different way. He was wearing a tight, slinky white shirt with a faded British flag on the front, and over that, a fluffy tan scarf. Sebastian wished Kurt would take that scarf off, but it _was_ a bit cold outside. He’d already taken off his jacket, though. Sebastian would be glad for the glimpse of firm muscle peeking out of his shirt sleeves.

 

Kurt’s hair was a bit disheveled, too. Sebastian liked that. He wouldn’t lie to himself. More than one night since the opening of _West Side Disaster_ Sebastian’s shower time had been overtaken by the memory of Kurt. Furious. Covered in a sheen of sweat, wearing a snug white tank top and uniform blue slacks. The only thing better than a man in uniform was a man out of uniform.

 

How did Kurt hide those biceps? Those pecs? WHY did he hide?

 

“Well,” Sebastian said as he approached the table. “You wanted to an audience with the nefarious Warbler villain?”

 

Kurt narrowed his eyes. “That’s no way to start a conversation. Sit down like a civilized human being. Do you want some coffee?”

 

Sebastian thought on it for a second. He wasn’t certain he really wanted Kurt paying for him. 

 

“I’ll get it.”

 

“Just go up there and order. I already told Dana there’d be someone else on my tab.” Kurt waved toward the counter. “ _Go._ It’s just _coffee_ , Sebastian. I’m not donating you a kidney.”

 

Sebastian smiled softly. “Well, if you’re O neg, maybe I’ll take you up on that someday.”

 

Kurt raised his brows and folded his fingers together.

 

“Okay. I”ll get some coffee.” Sebastian leaned forward. “Maybe I’ll get some pastries, too.”

 

“Don’t bankrupt me. I’m just a peasant, remember.”

 

After Sebastian got his Americano (he passed on the pastries), he sat across from Kurtand sat back, taking the other boy in. He had been happy to hear from Kurt, truthfully. He’d suspected that his offer, freely given as it was, would be treated as a trick, as well as tainted by Kurt’s dislike for him.

 

“So how did the rest of the performances go? Did your ragtag bunch of karaoke stars make any improvements?” Sebastian asked.

 

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Thank you for the full week of endless fussing and arguments over your criticisms. I think you may have finally made Rachel Berry snap. If I were you, I’d avoid her fathers.”

 

“If she doesn’t want criticism, she shouldn’t be performing. At least the play is over, right? Or is it running for longer than a week?” 

 

“Oh no. It’s over. Thank goodness.” Kurt stirred his coffee.

 

Sebastian leaned back in his chair. “So did you just want to see my handsome face, or have you elected to come rejoin us Warblers?” 

 

“No. I mean... Sebastian, my family can’t afford the tuition at Dalton.” Kurt seemed almost chagrined to say it. “It was the main reason I decided to go back. That and Dave and Santana tried to eliminate the _overt_ danger at McKinley, but our financial situation... It played more than a part. And that hasn’t changed.”

 

“Wouldn’t it? I heard your father was running for senate.”

 

“Yeah, and if he loses, we’re... gonna be in trouble. Even if he wins, we have debts to pay off. Creditors don’t care if the bills you’re delinquent on are medical or from splurging on special compression socks made out of giraffe eyelashes from Bed, Bath, and Beyond.” Kurt looked away and shook his head.

 

Medical bills? Sebastian set down his coffee. “Who...?”

 

“I don’t want to talk about it. I came here... I wanted to ask you...”

 

Sebastian leaned forward.

 

“What’s wrong with me?” Kurt closed his eyes for a second, then added. “As a singer. You said I was flawed. And you were right about Blaine and Rachel, and... I wanna know what you thought _my_ flaws were.”

 

Sebastian’s brows tented together in disbelief. It was strange that Kurt had texted him to begin with, but to outright ask for Sebastian’s opinion was completely bizarre.

 

“The deadlines for early admissions to NYADA and a few of the other schools I’m applying to are coming up. I’m running out of time, and... I need to know if there’s anything I can fix before I completely screw myself.” 

 

Kurt waited another moment, staring Sebastian down intently.

 

“Okay,” Sebastian said finally. He took a deep breath, then gave Kurt an overview of his thoughts regarding the audition he had seen. Kurt inched forward, his hand raising slightly, unconsciously toward his face, his eyes rapt with interest as he took every word to heart.

 

That look in itself caused Sebastian to choose his words carefully, almost clinically. He and Kurt had often been talking past one another. Sebastian was always hitting nerves he hadn’t known were already exposed. If he had another chance for Kurt to listen to him, believe in him, he wouldn’t squander it. Consider it his new, revised plan. It required a lot more finesse than dealing with a spoiled ex-prep school kid.

 

“You _don’t_ have a lisp,” Sebastian admitted. “I was just being an asshole, but you _are_ sighing your H’s. And you could enunciate some lines more clearly, especially for stage work. I don’t think you have the time to train that out, but knowing that, you should probably just choose a song that isn’t full of vowels at the beginning of lines.”

 

“Oh, okay.” Kurt nodded solemnly. 

 

“What were you thinking of auditioning with?” Sebastian took a sip of his coffee. He could read Kurt’s conflict moving through his eyes. Do I tell his guy, or not? Do I trust him, or not?

 

“When I practiced with Rachel, she had me doing ‘Music of the Night,’” Kurt said. “But I’ve been working on other numbers. I’m just not sure I can really compare to the others who have sung _Phantom_.”

 

“Well, it’s probably a good idea to sing something originated by a guy,” Sebastian replied. When Kurt frowned, Sebastian held his hands up. “No shade. I’m just saying, admissions committees don’t always appreciate a good rendition of Britney Spears. Or Lady Gaga, and _she_ went to Juilliard.”

 

“I’d thought of applying there, but I’ll never get in. I’m okay at the piano, but I’m no prodigy.”

 

“You don’t have to be a prodigy to-” Sebastian waved a hand. “I think you just have to show these schools that you’re at once marketable and unique.”

 

“Ah. I see.” Kurt didn’t look comforted in the slightest.

 

For the first time, Sebastian felt bad about the things he’d said regarding Kurt’s prospects outside of Lima.

 

“Would you...?” Kurt began.

 

Sebastian reached across the table slowly. “Yes.”

 

“You don’t even know what I’m asking!” Kurt said with a laugh.

 

“I figure I owe you one, if you had to hear Rachel and Blanderson whine about what I said to them for a whole _week_.”

 

“That’s true.” Kurt’s eyes followed Sebastian’s hand as it crept closer. When it touched his own, he didn’t pull away.

 

“I wondered if you’d be interested in watching my audition piece. Giving me pointers. You and I don’t always get along, but... I trust your assessment, musically. I think you’ll be honest with me, and... I don’t know that I can trust anyone else besides Mercedes with that right now. Rachel and I still aren’t talking, Blaine never gives any good ideas...”

 

“What about your choir director?”

 

“He doesn’t... I guess he would watch, if I asked him, but his most recent criticisms of me involve making sure I don’t hold my hands up during footwork or swish my hips toomuch,” Kurt admitted. He flashed a less than joyful jazz hand with his free hand.

 

“Ugh.” Sebastian’s lip curled. 

 

“I guess there’s a chance that those are the kinds of comments I’ll get from you, too, but...”

 

“No, I won’t do that. Unless you are singing Aretha Franklin or Beyoncé, which I _don’t_ advise.”

 

“As much as I love the Single Ladies dance, I won’t be gracing the stage with that any time soon,” Kurt said dryly.

 

“That’s kinda too bad. Maybe the admissions _does_ need to see you dance. The way you do in the club,” Sebastian waggled his brows.

 

Kurt pulled back. “I don’t want to set anything on fire.”

 

“Nah, probably just their pants.”

 

Kurt let out a soft laugh. Sebastian grinned.

 

“I’ll do it. Tell me when and where.”

 

Kurt clapped his hands together. “Thank you! And... I’m sorry, for... making fun of your hair, and for being so hostile.”

 

“You thought I was after your boyfriend. It’s understandable. I wasn’t really, though. I just planned to butter him up until he spilled details about your set list,” Sebastian said with a shrug.

 

“What?” Kurt glared at him.

 

“God, the ego on that one. Pity other parts of him aren’t that big,” Sebastian muttered.

 

“Oh, my God. Stop.”

 

“Well, you’d know, right?”

 

Kurt held up a hand. “I am not discussing my sex life with you.”

 

“Tell me the hobbit isn’t a top. I might be put off sex forever, if that’s the case.”

 

“We haven’t even gotten that far. It’s only been a few... I mean- Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to talk about my sex life? I think I did.”

 

Sebastian recoiled internally. So what he’d seen on Facebook _was_ the signs of them starting to fool around. 

 

“Don’t make that face!” Kurt objected. “You _asked_.”

 

“I did. Ignorance is bliss.” Sebastian shook his head.

 

“Well, not all of us can pick up the guy of our dreams at a gay bar.”

 

“I don’t know how to tell you this, but Scandals is _barely_ a gay bar. I have to take you to one in Westerville, or better yet, Columbus. There’s a much bigger world out there for us than that watering hole.”

 

“I don’t think I can handle Blaine getting that drunk again,” Kurt said. He shivered involuntarily.

 

“Who invited _him_?”

 

Kurt grew quiet, then moved his thumbs over the rim of his coffee. “I know you’re not- Sebastian, you know I have a boyfriend.”

 

Sebastian was about to quip that Blaine didn’t have to know, but he recognized quickly that a comment like that would irritate and disgust Kurt. 

 

“Yeah. And he’s a selfish ball of drama and neediness. You said you trusted my judgment. My judgment is that you deserve better.” Sebastian shrugged. “I’d take a platonic evening out at a club with you over anything sexual with Blaine, any day.”

 

Kurt’s eyes grew wider, and he just stared. Like he didn’t know how to react to something like that. Sebastian would have to be cautious with his compliments after the audition piece. How would Kurt cope if Sebastian were too nice to him?

 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to try to force you into anything,” Sebastian added finally.

 

“When we were dancing a few weeks ago...?” Kurt said, looking thoughtfully at his coffee.

 

“I couldn’t help it,” Sebastian teased gently. “I wanted to see what you were like when you let go.”

 

“I can’t always be like that. I have to be responsible.”

 

“I won’t push you too far, then. But I won’t promise not to push. At least a little. You enjoyed it, once we got out there. It’s good to try new things. Explore the community.”

 

“I’d probably feel safer if Blaine weren’t there, actually.”

 

Sebastian frowned. “What does that mean?”

 

Kurt waved his hand. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. I just, when we’re out together I have to take care of him...”

 

“Yeah, there’s a toddler at my house that I have to put up with. I don’t want to have to look after one at the club,” Sebastian joked.

 

“He isn’t that bad. He’s my boyfriend. He’s a good guy, or I wouldn’t have dated him to begin with. We’ve just had some problems lately, because he’s so competitive.”

 

“I dunno,” Sebastian sang. “I think the word you’re looking for is ‘self-involved’.”

 

“Sebastian,” Kurt scolded.

 

Sebastian opened his mouth to tease Kurt some more, but then a bit of light reflecting off of Kurt’s cheek caught his eye.

 

“Oh my, God. Are you wearing _glitter_?”

 

Kurt made a noise. “Just... shut up. It’s just make-up from my play. It’s hard to get the glitter off!”

 

“Krupke wears _glitter make-up_? What kind of directorial edits did I cause??”

 

“No! It’s... It’s this other play I’m in. I came _here_ from _there_.”

 

Sebastian raised his brows, his interest piqued. “Okay. Now you _have_ to explain this.”

 


	10. Chapter Ten

**Kurt** ****

 

Even though Kurt was just performing for the camera, his chest was tight, and he could feel the prickling pins along the surface of his skin. He just hoped that he didn’t sweat though his outfit before he got the chance to wow the judges.

 

Or rather, the camera, and Sebastian Smythe.

 

“Nice tech, grease monkey,” said the man himself as he strolled down the aisle.

 

Kurt shot Sebastian a look, but truthfully, he didn’t mind that name as much as any of the others.

 

“Did you get that from the AV club?” Sebastian asked.

 

Kurt could hear the ‘joke’ in that, but he ignored it. “Yes.”

 

“If I’d know that you’d be using this thing, I would’ve stopped by Best Buy on my way here,” Sebastian drawled.

 

“Really? I would have thought you had servants do to such _menial_ tasks...”

 

Sebastian chuckled. “Oh, normally I do, but Jorge is visiting his family in the Dominican Republic this week.”

 

Kurt lifted his head from the cords. Sebastian was smirking. Kurt couldn’t tell for a moment if he was kidding, but then Sebastian’s smile widened, and he dipped his head, slightly embarrassed. 

 

Cute. 

 

Kurt shook his head.

 

“Okay, so... um. The sweet spot for sound is right here, by the camera. So if you want to sit... here?” Kurt pointed to a seat.

 

“Sure.” Sebastian came closer. “Did you choose a song, finally? Or am I getting a concert?”

 

Kurt swatted his arm. “Enjoy the show.”

 

Kurt looked down at his phone once again. Blaine had promised to be there. Kurt had asked him, after a fairly tense ‘non-fight’ about Blaine complaining that Kurt valued Sebastian’s opinion over Blaine’s. Kurt had told him that, of course, he cared about Blaine’s opinion, and invited him expressly.

 

But Blaine had been due to show up early, to set up the camera. He was supposed to be the one playing the piano. Kurt wasn’t sure if they could get started without him.

 

_Where are you?_ he texted.

 

“Well. After all that, why _would_ you bother to show up,” Kurt muttered.

 

“What’s the hold up?” Sebastian propped his feet on the seat in front of him. “Your hallways stink, by the way.”

 

“No, they- Well, yeah, they do. I’m sorry. There’s a side exit out the back. You don’t haveto go back out there.”

 

“How do you guys live like this?” Sebastian muttered.

 

Kurt thought about that for a moment, but before he could answer, Sebastian added, “Sorry.”

 

“You don’t have to be. They don’t always take care of the restrooms. And there’s black mold in the stairwells. That’s probably what you’re smelling. The problem is when you’ve been living with something toxic for a while, no matter how deleterious, you just stop noticing it, I guess.” Kurt shrugged. “Like those old ladies that don’t know their whole house smells like cat pee.”

 

Sebastian looked up at Kurt, his lips still curving ever wider in a smile and his eyes... Why were his eyes so wide? Creasing at the corners? Shining like that? Was cat pee so funny?

 

Kurt looked at his phone. “I don’t know what to do. Do you know how to play the piano?”

 

“No. Do you have a violin around?”

 

“Violin?” Kurt tried not to look too surprised, but he failed. He could tell by Sebastian’s little laugh. “Yeah, we have a whole stack of them piled up next to the caviar. Behind the hallway full of bidets and monogramed hand towels you aren’t allowed to use.”

 

Sebastian threw his head back with a cackle and reached for Kurt’s hand. Kurt hesitated, then squeezed back.

 

“I really appreciate your being here,” Kurt said honestly.

 

“Well, I had some sabotage to lay against our pitiful Sectionals competition, but this should be almost as fun.”

 

“Bad,” Kurt accused.

 

The doors behind them opened, and Kurt turned to see Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany in their old Sectionals dresses with Brad trailing behind them. (In his regular black attire.)

 

“Oh!” Kurt jumped in place and clapped his hands. “You’re here! Thank you! You’re a life saver!”

 

Brad twisted his lips in a rare near smile and waved off Kurt’s excitement.

 

“Maybe you’re fine with waitin’ all day for Handsy McGreasestain-” Mercedes said.

 

“Hey!” Kurt objected.

 

“-but us girls got things to do.” Mercedes patted his arm. “I love you, but we’re not gonna put Trouble Tones rehearsal on hold just so Grandpa Tightpants can roll in here more than half an hour late.”

 

“Forty minutes, now,” Tina muttered. “I’m all dressed up here. Who does he think he is?”

 

“Prince of Glee, Destroyer of Furniture,” Brittany deadpanned.

 

Kurt watched the girls heading up to the stage. “Okay. Um, I gotta get up there. When I signal to you, hit the red button there to start recording?”

 

“Gotcha,” Sebastian said.

 

**Sebastian**

 

“My name is Kurt Hummel, and-”

 

“You sound like a twelve-year-old girl!” Sebastian called.

 

Kurt put his hands on his hips, and Sebastian grinned. 

 

“I’m helping! Don’t sound so breathless and eager. It makes them think that you’re desperate. And you’re not. You’re Kurt Fucking Hummel.”

 

“Sebastian-”

 

“Say it!”

 

“Say... I’m not going to introduce myself that way!”

 

“Yes, you are. You’re Kurt Motherfuckin’ Hummel! We’ll cut it out in post.” Sebastian gestured aggressively with one hand. “Action!”

 

Kurt looked up and sighed heavily.

 

“Action!” Sebastian yelled with a laugh.

 

“You’re incorrigible!” Kurt protested. He put his hands on his hips, then looked up. “My name is Kurt _Fucking_ Hummel, and I’ll be auditioning with ‘Not the Boy Next Door.’”

 

“Yeah, one more time,” Sebastian ordered. “And this time don’t sound like you’re about to wet those stylish, tight black pants of yours.”

 

Kurt crossed his arms and glowered.

 

“Go ahead and hate me,” Sebastian sang. “Use it, darling!”

 

“My name is Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be performing ‘Not the Boy Next Door,’” Kurt said with a smoldering, quiet fierceness. He’d forgotten to swear, but the “fucking” was nicely implied.

 

Kurt looked back to Brad and nodded. The music started, and Kurt closed his eyes as each of his ‘swans’ turned around on each beat. Sebastian leaned back to take the performance in. The simple black suit with white dress shirt was unlike Kurt... maybe he’d taken the ‘marketable’ advice too far.

 

“Comin’ home used to feel so good.” Kurt opened his eyes and began to lift his chin. “I’m a stranger now in my neighborhood.”

 

He began to stride forward (one of Sebastian’s favorite moves). “I’ve seen the world at a faster pace, and I’m comin’ now from a different place.”

 

Sebastian nodded along and touched his chin.

 

Kurt pointed directly at Sebastian. “I may look the same way to you-”

 

Sebastian shot up in his seat as Kurt tore off his pants and shirt.

 

“But underneath there is somebody new!”

 

“Oh my God,” Sebastian muttered. 

 

His eyes glued to what had been revealed: Kurt, now in tight GOLD pants and a BLACK shirt, both _tight_ , as he threw his hands in the air and shook his hips while he sang the refrain. 

 

“I am not! The boy next door! I don’t belong! Where I did before!”

 

Sebastian felt his heart racing as Kurt moved around the stage, mock playing the piano, getting up _on the piano,_ dancing on the piano, lying on the piano, throwing one of his legs up in the air.Those gold pants really hid _nothing._ Kurt was really... quite...

 

“We’ve made plans but they’re wearin’ thin. And they don’t work out, ‘cause I don’t fit in!” Kurt sang, draping himself back on the piano.

 

Sebastian knew he was failing to assess Kurt’s vocal techniques, mostly because he couldn’t help but imagine laying Kurt back on that piano again and seeing how easy it would be to tear off that second pair of pants. He wasn’t sure there was much rhyme or reason to Kurt’s choreography, but Kurt kept moving, kept prancing, kept doing tricks and _a backbend_. Now Sebastian’s cock was growing uncomfortably hard, and he leaned forward slightly, as though anyone might come by and catch him being indecently aroused.

 

Then Kurt hit the refrain a second time, and the dancing seemed to come together. Up from the backbend, he moved forward, danced in place, swiveled his hips, and the Swans moved in complement to him. NYADA’s head of dance and movement would be grateful to have Kurt coming in. It was lively. It worked.  

 

“Ohhh, I can’t go back there, anymooore!” Kurt sang, flipping around with his hands aloft and jogging downstage with tiny, exaggerated steps.

 

Sebastian covered his mouth to keep the camera from picking up his laugh.

 

“‘Cause I am not the boy next door!” Kurt sang, dipping effortlessly into his lower register. 

 

Then he let out a deep grunt and thrust his hips forward. Sebastian sat back as though struck.

 

“Oh, my _God._ ”

 

Then Kurt danced. He twirled. He kicked. He shifted back and forth, rubbing his hands along the sides of his gold lamé pants, causing Sebastian’s face to go up in flames.

 

“I’m not sorry for just bein’ me! But if you look past the past you can seeee that I am noooooot-” Kurt’s voice suddenly jumped up what might have been nearly an octave... no scooping, no sliding up to the note. He slammed it straight on, then did a run before moving on.

 

Sebastian was floored. What was that, a high F? G? Holy God, that was _amazing_. He watched slack-jawed as Kurt went back into dancing, shaking his ass from side to side sassily, with a confidence that dominated the entire stage. 

 

“You can have your dreams, but _you can’t have me!_ ”

 

Sebastian rested a hand on his stomach. Kurt approached the edge of the stage as his voice soared into the stratosphere once again, and he lifted his hands as though trying to reach his own notes.

 

When he finished, Kurt stared out at an undefined point in the auditorium, panting slightly. The girls turned to one another to talk (and it was clear that the blonde was pointing at Kurt’s ass in those pants). Brad rose from the piano and headed backstage.

 

“Well?” Kurt asked. 

 

“What?” Sebastian said. 

 

“Let me have it.” Kurt squeezed his fingers. “How am I?”

 

_How am I?_ Sebastian thought with an edge. _Gorgeous? Amazing? A fucking tease?_

 

“Those pants are something,” Sebastian managed after a moment.

 

Kurt looked down and frowned. “Should I stick with the black and white? I thought this would be appropriate for the song.”

 

“No, I’m _not_ saying I don’t like them,” Sebastian clarified. “In fact, I demand that you wear them always.”

 

“Good!” Brittany yelled. “You keep those on!”

 

“Britt!” Kurt glared back at her. “Why don’t you girls take five, okay? Brad has.”

 

Kurt turned and made a motion with his hand. Sebastian stared at him, and finally, Kurt said, “Turn the camera off.”

 

“Oh!” Sebastian reached up, trying not to lift his hips over the rise of the seat in front of him, and managed to mash the red button.

 

Kurt hopped down from the stage and collected his discarded outfit from the front row. “You’d better be coming up with your most scathing criticisms, Sebastian. I mean it. Don’t go easy on me.” He headed up the aisle. “I _have_ to be my absolute best. Everyone else applying to these schools has... I don’t know. Years of vocal training, dance classes, _connections._ I have a year as a toddler in ballet class and a few years of show choir.”

 

“And a mechanic dad.”

 

“And a mechanic dad,” Kurt agreed with a laugh. “He would’ve given me all those other things if he could, but after- Um.” He shook his head and approached Sebastian’s row.

 

Sebastian draped his arm over his lap.

 

“Anyway. This is all I have to work with. What’s wrong with me?” Kurt took a few steps closer. “Was... was the dancing too much? Did I sigh my H’s?”

 

“No, no. Your H’s were fine. And there were so many opportunities in this song to do that... Did you arrange this yourself? That’s different from the Wolverine version.”

 

Kurt quirked his lips to the side in a not quite smile. “Yeah. I had to. I usually do. My voice is... different.”

 

“Unique. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone _like_ you.” 

 

“Is that bad?”

 

Sebastian sighed, then rolled his eyes. “No. What’s bad is you huffing around before and after you perform and wringing your hands because you don’t believe for a second you are good enough. Where the hell does that come from? Less than a minute ago, you were on the stage, the sexiest boy in North America, singing to me that _I can’t have you_ and _oozing_ confidence. Where’d he go?”

 

Kurt blinked. “I-I um...”

 

“You’re making me soft. Get back up there in your fancy pants and dance around some more.”

 

“I-” Kurt made a scoffing noise. “I didn’t bring you here to be inappropriate, Sebastian.”

 

“And now you’re a Victorian again? After dancing like _that_? C’mon. Unless you have a pack of asexuals at NYADA, that video is going to get you in.”

 

“This isn’t helping.” Kurt sighed and started to turn away.

 

Sebastian stood up and grabbed his arm. “You really don’t think I could’ve liked the performance?”

 

“You could, but, there has to be something...”

 

“Let’s just sit down and look over the video.” Sebastian looked Kurt in the eye. “Okay? My first impressions were... Wow. It wasn’t just an audition. It was a full performance. You fixed everything I complained about before. You shocked me. Surprised me. Made me laugh. And you hit a freakin’ high note and it was gloriously _pure_.”

 

Kurt’s frown faded.

 

“You were _good._ You were better than good. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you think anything to the contrary.” Sebastian shrugged. “Now it’s all about fine tuning.”

 

Kurt blinked slowly, like Sebastian’s words were sinking in, one by one, and he couldn’t process them any faster than that. 

 

“Thank you?”

 

Sebastian took the camera. “Let’s do this before your Swans and grumpy piano player return. I think you should probably only need one more run, if that. This is a solid piece, Kurt.”

 

“Okay, um. Lemme text Mercedes.” Kurt picked up his phone and quickly sent a message. “Should I keep the outfit? I thought the second one would be useful if this song was too over the top and I needed to do another one.”

 

“Did you sew those tear-away clothes yourself?” Sebastian looked at them.

 

“Yes. Who else would do it?”

 

“I dunno. Your mom?”

 

Kurt raised a brow, and then looked over Sebastian for a second, like he was assessing him. “My mom died when I was eight.”

 

Sebastian almost dropped the camera. He swallowed hard. Why did Kurt just blurt things out like that? Why did he keep things so close to the chest, and then drop information in your lap, like it was just the same as his rigorous facial sloughing?

 

“If you dare take out that moment when you rip off your costume, I’m gonna mock you until the day you die.”

 

“It just felt like the right moment...”

 

“Whew. Yeah, it was right. And good. And pure.”

 

“Stop. We can look at this in the choir room.”

 

“Let me just trail behind a little,” Sebastian teased. He only grinned wider as Kurt frowned at him. “So I can look at that golden behind.”

 

“Stop!”

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Kurt**

 

After finishing upat the auditorium, Kurt took his girls out for lattes. He’d extended the invitation to Brad and Sebastian, but Sebastian had to drive home, and Brad had just shaken his head and said it would be strange to hang out with the kids without a piano around.

 

Sebastian had intimated that he would join them if Kurt kept the gold pants for the coffee shop, but Kurt had already changed back into his jeans and wasn’t about to show off his glutes for the Lima populace.

 

Kurt was completely wiped by the time he got back home, but he felt confident that he had his audition down. He would be able to finish up his applications this weekend and have them in the mail in time for early admissions. 

 

It felt strange. It was a relief, for certain, but he also had this weird free-floating sensation. Kurt figured he might not know what to do with himself, once they were finished, once his to-do list was all crossed off.

 

No one was at home. Finn was probably still at football or at Rachel’s. His dad and Carole had probably gone out to do campaign stuff. So Kurt made himself a sandwich, ate it, and went upstairs to start getting ready for bed. He’d just gotten out of the shower when he heard the doorbell ringing repeatedly.

 

Kurt considered ignoring it. He was wet, naked, and exhausted. After a minute of listening to the button being mashed over and over, Kurt darted into his room, jerked on his jeans without bothering with underwear, pulled on a clean shirt, and ran down the stairs.

 

“I’m coming! Knock it off!” Kurt called as he approached the door. He took a second to look through the peephole and saw a distorted vision of plaid, pink, and flat hair. He paused just a moment before the doorbell sounded again, and Kurt opened the door. “Blaine?”

 

“Why didn’t you answer the door?” Blaine asked, sounding more than a little irritated. 

 

“Well, for starters, I was in the shower. Why didn’t you answer my texts?” Kurt rolled his eyes and stepped back so Blaine could come in.

 

“Um, I did.”

 

Kurt stared at him hard, then went over to where he’d left his phone and keys when he’d come in. “You texted me back thirty minutes ago. We were at the auditorium for hours. Where were you? I was lucky that Brad was still on campus.”

 

“The auditorium?” Blaine frowned.

 

“Yeah. I was working on my audition? You made a big fuss about wanting to be there?”

 

“I was busy. Something came up.”

 

Kurt watching Blaine turning his head as he closed the door behind him. 

 

“What? What came up?” Kurt asked. “You _just said_ ‘what audition’. Did you even remember this was today?” 

 

“Of course, I remembered! I just got held up.”

 

“Well, the considerate thing to do in that case, especially when I was counting on you to play the piano while I performed, was to let me know what was happening.” Kurt paused and leaned back on the sofa. “Was there an accident? Is someone hurt? Cooper?”

 

“No, no, not anything like that.” Blaine’s hand brushed over his nose, and then he turned to Kurt and looked him right in the eye. “My mom caught me the moment I got home this afternoon, and she needed my help with... “ He blinked slowly. “Music, for this fundraiser she’s doing. Um, for messed up teenagers, you know.” He mimed a sad face and trailing tears down his cheeks. “Anyway, I lost track of the time because my phone was in the car.”

 

“That’s what happened,” Kurt said quietly.

 

Blaine shook his head. “Yeah.”

 

Kurt crossed his arms and took a breath. Blaine really wasn’t the actor, or the liar, that he thought he was.

 

“Well, it’s been a long day for me. I need to get to bed. I’m going to be soliciting final letters of recommendation tomorrow so I can send off my applications Saturday or Monday. Probably Monday... I still have the play.”

 

Which Blaine had yet to come see, despite his promises otherwise. When he finally did come, he would be expecting surprise, delight, and praise. It was all becoming so predictable. And they’d only really been together eight months.

 

“I came all this way, though...” Blaine rocked on his heels and gave Kurt a charming smile.

 

Kurt sighed. “I have the jump drive with my audition in my room. If you want to see it-”

 

“Yeah!” Blaine perked up. “I could give you some pointers. We could run it through for a final version tomorrow after school?”

 

“I, um...” Kurt frowned and shook his head. It kind of was the final version already, and he wasn’t going to take more of Mercedes, Tina, and Brittany’s time just for Blaine’s ego... But he could show the audition to Blaine. Make the gesture to prevent a long, tiring fight. “Well... let’s see what you think.”

 

Blaine rubbed his hands together. “Alright. Let’s go upstairs!”

 

“Ohh, no. I’m exhausted, and you look _way_ too eager.”

 

“But there’s no one home, right?” Blaine grinned. “We could look at the video... Then, y’know... fool around a little... Have some ‘coffee’...”

 

“You-” Kurt pointed at him. “Stay right here. I’ll bring the jump drive down.”

 

Blaine held his hands up and did a twirl to drop down on the couch.

 

Kurt came down a minute later (after having danced out of his jeans in order to put on some briefs and then danced back into them) and bent over to the Micca box to plug in the drive.

 

“Okay. This was our third run-through. Though Sebastian and the girls said we had it by the second, I wanted to have something to compare it to. And Sebastian said my vocals were _slightly_ better on this one, maybe because I was more warmed up by this point.”

 

“We’ll see.” Blaine leaned forward.

 

“Hello. I’m Kurt Hummel, and I’ll be performing ‘Not the Boy Next Door’ from _The Boy from Oz_ ,” video Kurt declared.

 

“You sound aggressive,” Blaine muttered. “Was your voice getting sore?”

 

Kurt paused the video. “No, it wasn’t sore.”

 

“My voice got sore by the end of a performance when we were doing the play,” Blaine said with knowing concern. 

 

“That sounds like a personal problem,” Kurt shot back. “You should spend more time strengthening your voice.”

 

“Then why-”

 

“Could you just watch the video?” _So I can get to bed?_ Kurt turned the video back on and slumped back on the couch.

 

He watched Blaine’s face, carefully. Even if he was annoyed, he did care a bit if Blaine thought it was good. Blaine’s brows were up as Kurt began to sing, and he pressed his hands together in front of him, his lips curving slightly. 

 

Then, video Kurt stripped off his first outfit, and Blaine’s brows knit together, and his eyes widened. Kurt wasn’t sure what to make of those expressions. Was he turned on, like Sebastian had been? At first Kurt had thought Sebastian had been teasing him. Kurt didn’t know why his first reaction to anyone’s interest in him was that they must be joking or confused. But after seeing Sebastian similarly effected after the second and third run, Kurt had to believe that Sebastian found his performances more than technically captivating.

 

Now, as video Kurt danced on the piano, Blaine’s hand moved over his mouth. His expression of consternation froze, and Kurt gave up watching Blaine, and just watched himself, mouthing the words of the song.

 

When the file reached the end, Kurt turned his head to the side, waiting for Blaine to respond. The silence stretched on. Kurt sighed. He would have to ask for Blaine’s response. For some reason, the responsibility of initiating things always fell to Kurt. A counterintuitive state of affairs, given that Kurt was technically the younger of the two, despite Blaine’s clear perpetual mental age of twelve.

 

_Bitchy, Kurt. That was bitchy. And unfair to twelve-year-olds._

 

“So what did you think?” Kurt said politely.

 

“It’s...” Blaine looked to him and tented his brows. “Kurt, it’s cheap.”

 

Kurt blinked in confusion. “Cheap,” he echoed.

 

“With those moves, those _pants,_ it’s like you’re... _for sale_ or something. No one’s going to take you seriously as an artist if you behave like _that._ Why would you even-”

 

“Those are the pants from the actual _role_ ,” Kurt snapped. “That’s what you _wear_. It’s an send-up to the song I’m performing.”

 

“Well, if you do something exactly the way it was done before...” Blaine said, rolling his eyes.

 

“I’m _not._ I did the arrangement, the choreography, everything. And aside from the pants, my outfit is different, but... For sale? _Really_ , Blaine?”

 

“You’re wiggling and thrusting your hips all over the place. You’re dancing on the piano.” Blaine stood and gestured in frustration. “It’s like a _cabaret show_.”

 

“It’s a _performance,_ ” Kurt said, rising slowly. “And _you_ dance on things all the time! You broke our couch at the old house! Every time you came over, my dad would call out ‘protect the furniture!’”

 

“That couch was old,” Blaine scoffed. “Anyway, that’s not the issue. The issue is this _guy_ trying to convince you that you’re sex on a stick and getting you to do this completely _classless_ performance. Putting yourself on display, like you’re some kind of...”

 

“Of _what?_ ” Kurt crossed his arms and tilted his head to the side.

 

“Kurt, you don’t need to put yourself on display like that-”

 

“We all do. Every time we are on a stage, we’re on display. Where is this even coming from? You have no problem singing about panty snatching in front of a full auditorium! You had no problem calling over Crawford County Day to do your ‘sexy’ animal moves and get those girls’ numbers. The only difference seems to be that it’s _not_ okay when _I_ do it.”

 

“Come on, Kurt. You know this isn’t you. You’re not comfortable with this kind of stuff,” Blaine chided softly, creasing the corners of his eyes like he was looking at a child tryingwith every ounce of his strength to reach up to the big kids’ table. “You’re not the sexy guy dancing in skin-tight pants. You’re a little baby penguin!”

 

Kurt pressed his lips together. There was nothing endearing about the heart eyes Blaine was trying to ensnare him with. “I said that _months ago._ I said that because I was _uncomfortable_ with you _pressuring_ me, and insulting me, yes, _insulting me_ for trying to be sexy. I didn’t say that for you to throw it back at me, as though a sexless, unworthy child is all I’ll ever be.”

 

“Kurt-”

 

“And you weren’t so concerned with my being a ‘little baby penguin’ when we were in the back of the car at Scandals-” Kurt held his hand up when Blaine started to object. “ _Or_ when you decided suddenly before the school play that it was time we started going below the belt. What happened to ‘I want _yooou_ to be comfortable, so _I_ can be comfortable’?” Kurt mimed Blaine’s affected hand gesture. “As far as I can tell, you don’t give a damn if I’m comfortable or not.”

 

Kurt gestured forward and shook his head. “And you don’t give a flying _fuck_ about what I need. You’ve been trying to push me down for _months_ , so _you_ can be comfortable. So go. GO! Get out of here! And go make yourself comfortable _by yourself!_ ” 

 

“Why are you yelling at me? You asked for my advice!”

 

“I asked you to come to watch the audition today, to help me while I was putting it together! I didn’t ask you to try to tear me apart after the fact, after I’ve done all the work!”

 

Blaine huffed. “I work, too. Doing the play in addition to transferring to a new school was really hard.”

 

“Well, don’t expect me to be dripping with sympathy for you, when you didn’t _have_ to audition for Tony, in fact had said you wouldn’t, and _didn’t_ have to _take_ the part. But you chose to do that, and the work that comes with it, and frankly, the more than overdue reaction from your boyfriend that you have been a selfish asshole about all of this!”

 

Blaine threw his hands up. “Oh, this all comes back to _Tony_.”

 

“ _You_ bought up the play!”

 

“You know.” Blaine narrowed his eyes. “I hate to say this,” he said in a tone that suggested he was actually enjoying it, “but you sound like a jealous bitch.”

 

Kurt sucked in his cheeks. “I’ve made no attempt to hide when I’m jealous. Ever. I’ve always made it clear. If you’re better at me at anything, it’s passive aggression. So, no, I’m not jealous. I’m pissed. You stole that role from me, and you did it on purpose, and you did it _after_ guilting me out of the Shakespeare program! All you do is try to make me smaller, take things away from me, make yourself seem like the greater, the better. The ideal! The teenage freakin’ dream!”

 

“I do have more experience than you!”

 

“At _theme parks_!”

 

“And I’ve got show choir experience!”

 

“Whoo hoo. So do I. And New Directions have won more competitions than the Warblers ever have, anyway!” Kurt stood with his hands on his hips, watching the screensaver on the television bounce around. 

 

“But I _won_ that part. I got it because the directors thought I was the best! It’s not _fair_ for you to still be mad at me!” Blaine said, coming dangerously close to whining.

 

“Well, the world’s not fair. It’s not fair that people deny me roles and opportunities because they don’t think I can ‘pass’ or that I won’t have chemistry with a girl because I’m ‘too gay’ or the ‘wrong kind of gay’ or a _baby fucking penguin!_ Don’t you dare try to tell me what’s ‘fair’, Blaine Anderson!”

 

“You are being totally crazy! What is wrong with you?”

 

Kurt poked his tongue into his cheek. “What’s wrong with me, apparently, is that I had the poor fortune of picking someone as a boyfriend who thinks that it is far, far too much to ask to support me even slightly, to be happy for me when I succeed, to not _actively_ try to thwart my success.”

 

“I’m _not!_ It just... sucks that you’ve got all these changes coming up. You’re all full-speedahead to New York, and you’re not even thinking about _me_ and what’s going to happen to _me_ when you leave!”

 

“So, what... You want me to defer college for you? Are you trying to make it so I can’t go?”

 

“No! Of course not!”

 

“I’m not going to stop planning my applications. I’m not going to stop working on my career for anyone, and that includes you, who tries to get in my way. You can’t chain me up and keep me here, Blaine.”

 

“I don’t want to keep you here, I just... I don’t want to get left behind. I don’t want you to get out there, and keep changing and getting more confident, and realize that you don’t need me anymore.” Blaine slumped his shoulders over and looked up with big, sad eyes.

 

“That’s not gonna happen,” Kurt said wearily. 

 

Blaine gave a watery smile. “Yeah?”

 

“Because I’ve already realized it.” Kurt walked over to the door and opened it. “If my being confident is a deal breaker for you... You should go. We’re done, actually.”

 

“What?” Blaine whipped around and held his hands out ineffectually. “How did we get to ‘we’re done’? What’s happening?” 

 

“We’re breaking up. I’m dumping you. Goodbye, Blaine.”

 

“No! How can you say that! We’re not breaking up! We can make this work!”

 

Kurt ground out each word. “I. Don’t. Want. To. Get out!”

 

“How can you do this to me? I changed schools for you!” Blaine stomped his foot.

 

“And you haven’t exactly _suffered_ on that account. Get out.”

 

“No, we can.. I can... Kurt, you’re being unreasonable.” Blaine came to his side and grabbed his arm. “We can do this. We can work this out, okay? We don’t have to end it. We-”

 

“Stop it!” Kurt snapped. He grabbed Blaine and twisted his arm, then gave him a shove out the door. “Go. Before I call the police. It’s over! I’m tired of you treating me this way, and I’m not obligated to try to ‘make it work.’ We’re not a suit on Project Runway! We’re a couple of kids in a bad relationship. It’s better to just end it now.”

 

Blaine screwed his brows together and looked at Kurt like he wanted to peel his skin off. “I will _never_ forgi-”

 

Kurt slammed the door shut and locked it. He stood there for a moment while Blaine yelled outside. Rubbing his forehead, Kurt paced around the living room. Then he grabbed his phone and texted Finn that he should come home and went to the laundry room to lock the back door as well. 

 

Eventually, though, Blaine’s screaming disappeared, and Kurt heard Blaine’s car starting and drive off. Kurt went back up stairs and flung himself on the bed. 

 

But minutes passed. Half an hour. And he couldn’t sleep. He was too exhausted to sleep.

 

“Crap. I just dumped my boyfriend,” Kurt muttered. 

 

He picked up his phone to update his Facebook relationship. For a moment his finger hovered over the status bar. Maybe he didn’t want to burn that bridge completely. 

 

“I think I do, actually.”

 

He found a link for Taylor Swift’s “We Are Never, Ever, Ever Getting Back Together” video and posted it. Then he flopped his arm back and stared at the ceiling.

 

Plink!

 

Kurt looked at the notification. 

 

_Sebastian Smythe likes this._

 

Kurt laughed softly. “You a big T-Swift fan, huh?”

 

He waited, just a moment, then messaged Sebastian those words, exactly.

 

_I’m more partial to Jacob the wolfman, myself,_ Sebastian texted back.

 

_What are you even doing up?_ Kurt asked.

 

_Checking FB, obvs. What are YOU doing up, superstar?_

 

Kurt hesitated and took a deep breath. 

 

_Blaine came over. We broke up._ Kurt thought for a moment, then added. _He didn’t like my audition._

 

_That’s a good reason to break up. Because your audition was awesome. Screw him._

 

_That wasn’t the only reason. But I did. Dump him._

 

_GOOD,_ Sebastian replied.

 

Kurt felt his chest settling, his heartbeat starting to come back to normal. He took deep breaths and mentally reviewed how ugly that fight had gotten. The house was so quiet now, apart from the plinking of Sebastian’s responses.

 

Kurt continued talking to him for a little while, until he started to drop off.

 

_I’m falling asleep on you. I need to go,_ he said.

 

_May you one day literally fall asleep on me ;)_

 

_Is that supposed to be sexy? It’s so domestic._

 

_I’ll try harder tomorrow. I’m about to crash, too. It’s very draining being so aroused for hours._

 

_That’s better. Stay bad, Sebastian._

 

Kurt plugged his phone in to charge, then rolled over. He knew he ought to get up and finish his facial routine, but the lure of his soft sheets beckoned to him. 

 

Plink!

 

“Enough, Sebastian!” Kurt groaned. He turned off his light, yawned, and looked at the message. 

 

_Sleep tight, superstar._

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Sebastian** ****

 

Sebastian had really considered taking his car into the garage. It would’ve been an excuse, anyway. A better one than he had. _Oh, I was having car trouble in the area... just happened to drive by Hummel Tires and Lube..._

 

Instead, Sebastian settled for walking in for no reason, other than the two trays of coffee in his hand, which he set on the counter before pinging the bell repeatedly.

 

A large black man with a goatee and big friendly eyes came in from the back of the shop. “I heard it the first time, son. Is it an emergency?”

 

Sebastian tilted his head to the side. He almost smiled when he read the name stitched into the man’s coveralls. _Cassius_. 

 

“No emergency. Just a coffee delivery.”

 

“We didn’t order anythin’. Sorry.”

 

“Nah, it’s on me. Is Kurt around?” Sebastian framed it as a question, but he knew that Kurt spent most Sunday mornings in the shop.

 

“Oh, yeah. He’s in the back. He’s working on a car right now, but you can go talk to ‘im. I don’t think it would be a problem.” Cassius paused. “These are for us?”

 

“Yeah. The latte’s for Kurt, but he mentioned once that the coffeemaker here isn’t the best. I figured you guys could use a decent pick-me-up,” Sebastian said with a smile.

 

“You’re slick,” Cassius said with a chuckle. “Come on back, but behave yourself.”

 

“Of _course_ , I will,” Sebastian promised. 

 

He took the tray with Kurt’s coffee into the back. The shop was bigger than he’d expected. There was the area with a dingy old coffeemaker, and a cluttered office, and then four cars in a row all in some process of being worked on... Though, if Sebastian were honest, he’d never been in the back of a garage before. He had no idea what most of the stuff around the cars was meant for, or what they were probably there to fix. An oil change only took an hour, usually, so what would they need a weekend to work on? Did mechanics even work on the weekends?

 

“Hey, kid!” Cassius called. “You got a visitor!”

 

Sebastian looked around, trying to spot Kurt. Then he slid out from under a dark green Ford Explorer with a busted up front and a layer of dust so thick there might be traces of primordial DNA underneath it all.

 

“Yeah?” Kurt called as he looked up.

 

_God, help me,_ Sebastian thought. _His hair’s a disaster_ ** _and_** _he has grease on his face. I’m done for._

 

“I uh, I b-brought you coffee,” Sebastian said.

 

Kurt looked up. If he’d been wearing coveralls, everything would be okay. Instead he was wearing another tight shirt, and worn out old jeans with holes in them. He looked like something out of a Levi’s ad... or one of those ‘gritty’ pornos...

 

_I got a little car trouble._

 

_You want me to look under the hood? Hm... Gonna cost ya, son._

 

_How do you suppose I could pay...?_

 

“What are you staring at?” Kurt asked. He rose and came over. “Come to see if I really do work on cars?”

 

“Oh, definitely that. But I mostly just came to make fun of you,” Sebastian said, offering the latte forward.

 

“Ah. A little early morning mockery,” Kurt took the latte and sniffed.

 

“I didn’t poison it or anything.”

 

“I didn’t think you did!” Kurt grinned. “Thank you. It’s just me and Cass this morning. Most of the guys don’t work weekends. Cass is here to catch up on paperwork, and I’m getting a few cars finished up that need to done by Monday.”

 

“Are they all, y’know, adults? Can’t they do their own work?” Sebastian started to lean back on the Ford, but recoiled at its filth at the last minute. “Are you always working on junkers?”

 

Kurt chuckled. “These aren’t junkers. They’re _clunkers_.” 

 

“This one looks like it tried to kiss a mack truck.” Sebastian pointed to the smushed nose of the Ford.

 

“Their water pump is broken, and they had to replace a cracked oil intake manifold two months before that. Most working people need their car running more than they need it to be pretty.” Kurt shrugged. “I mean, that’s what you get with a Ford _Exploder_. I don’t know why the designers decided to make that part out of plastic, given that it’s _going to_ expand and contract with extreme weather.”

 

Sebastian stared at Kurt for a moment. Maybe he could invite him over to work on his car sometime. He could watch Kurt looking a mess as he nattered on about car parts. “So, uh, how old is this thing?”

 

Kurt smirked almost intolerably. “It’s a 2004.”

 

“What?!” Sebastian shook his head. “No wonder it looks like someone dragged it out of a lake crime scene.”

 

“The average age for registered cars these days is somewhere around eleven years.” Kurt’s tongue peeked out between his lips to lick away a bit of foam. “I mean, not that you would know. What year is your car?”

 

Sebastian shook his head. “....2011.”

 

Kurt smiled. “Well, you’re making a good contribution to the car economy. When you get your 2013 model, the dealer will sell your car to some upper middle class family, who will in turn sell their car to a step down, and so on. It’s the circle of wheels.”

 

“Aren’t wheels already circular? It’s a bit early for philosophizing about car ownership.”

 

“Hm. Why’d you really come by?”

 

Sebastian shrugged. “I just felt like it. Your texts have been 75% less rainbow emoji lately. It’s depressing.”

 

“I’m just... Blaine was never going to make a break-up easy for me. He keeps acting like I’ve done something horrible to him and tries to take over Glee rehearsal to sing songs to me, like ‘Grenade’ by Bruno Mars, ‘Hot and Cold’ by Katy Perry, and ‘It’s Not Right’ by Whitney Houston.”

 

Sebastian made a noise of irritation through his nose. Blaine would sound like a trash compactor on all of those songs.

 

“He even got a copy, somehow, of my audition piece and showed it to everyone before practice. I think he wanted to embarrass me, but it backfired on him.” Kurt smiled smugly. “I got a lotta complements.”

 

Sebastian wanted to say something witty and scathing about Blaine’s dickish attempts to swat back at Kurt for being the one with the intelligence to call it off, but his brain was in a fog. A fog of how _tight_ those old jeans were, and how casually Kurt stood, covered in car fluids.

 

“Do you have a coverall set with your name on it?” Sebastian asked abruptly.

 

“I do. But I got stuff all over it, and I was too busy to get it cleaned this week.” Kurt tilted his head back. “Why?”

 

“No reason.” Sebastian pressed his lips together. “I’m just wondering if you have an infinite amount of increasingly sexy looks.”

 

“I, uh...”

 

“It’s like you’re ensconced in all these layers, and every time we pull one back, _that_ guy is twice as sexy as the last.”

 

Kurt looked back toward a blue Miata. “Okay.”

 

“Are you _blushing_? Did I make you uncomfortable by being too nice?” Sebastian gestured forward. “I can do better. So, did your dad know you were gay when you started replacing people’s old oil with glitter?”

 

“No, he said he knew when I was three. Because all I wanted for my birthday was a sensible set of heels,” Kurt deadpanned. “Nothin’ _he_ can do about it.”

 

Sebastian grimaced. “I dunno why you get on _me_ for saying homophobic stuff. No matter how hard I try, I can’t top the stuff _straight people_ say.”

 

“You’d be surprised what gay people can do to each other.”

 

“Okay, if you insist on being serious about it. Here’s another try, how do you work in a garage looking like this without cops, construction workers, and cowboys wandering by all the time for a fourth?”

 

Kurt chuckled. “All right. Here’s _my_ question. Was it hard for your nanny to get silk diapers clean?”

 

“Oh, oh, yes. Because we’re rich.”

 

“You are. Which is why I cannot parse the reasoning behind an outfit that screams ‘Yo, brah,’” Kurt said, dropping his voice low. “‘I’m pledgin’ this semester at Rape Tech.’”

 

Sebastian put his hand over his heart and mimed a gasp.

 

“Well, I did have a nanny growing up, and so does my little sister.” Sebastian nodded. “Y’know, we have sixteen bathrooms at the manor?”

 

Kurt covered his mouth and shook.

 

“And two kitchens. A _grande_ foyer. A stable, with our thoroughbred horses.” Sebastian narrowed his eyes and looked up slightly. “And my unicorn, Delilah.”

 

“Stop,” Kurt laughed.

 

So...” Sebastian rubbed his tongue over the inside of his cheek. “I do know I’m gay. Remember, how you said to me...?”  


“I remember,” Kurt grimaced. “I was just...”

 

“Angry with me. Yeah. I mean, I did go off on everyone you know because I had a headache and expected to actually see a _good_ performance. Anyway. I know I’m gay. I even like to go hang out with other gay people, on occasion.” Sebastian crossed his arms. “You wanna go to a real gay bar, like I promised? It’s a lot more fun in a group, and I can make sure you don’t have to worry about drinking, if you chose to.”

 

“Oh, um... I don’t know. I’m so busy right now, with the play and Glee, and the elections are coming up-”

 

“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean you don’t get a night off.” Sebastian came over and draped his arm around Kurt’s shoulders. “Get the stick outta your ass for one night. There’s so much more _fun_ things you can put up there.”

 

“Oh, my God!” Kurt laughed.

 

Behind them, Sebastian heard a deep clearing of the throat. Cassius was still in the office, so Sebastian turned, wondering if another worker had come in. Their detractor was a tallish man about Kurt’s height, probably in his late thirties or early forties, wearing a ball cap and a regular button-up Walmart chic shirt with his regular Walmart jeans.

 

“Who we got here?” the man asked in a gruff tone.

 

“Oh, hi, _Dad_...” Kurt said, his voice reaching cartoon character pitch.

 

Sebastian turned to face him and held out his hand. “Hello. I’m Sebastian Smythe.”

 

“As in Smythe the lawyer?” Kurt’s dad said skeptically.

 

“That would be us.”

 

“Huh. Okay. I’m Kurt’s dad, Burt. The Hummel on the sign out there. And how do you two know each other?” He looked between them suspiciously.

 

“I’m a Warbler,” Sebastian said simply.

 

“Oh. Hm.” Burt lifted his cap and smoothed his hand over a very bald head. “Stay off of furniture. It can be dangerous to climb stuff in here.”

 

“Do you need me to finish this up?” Kurt asked.

 

“Right now? Nah. We’re not even open until seven tomorrow. As long as you get done by then. It’s not like you’re havin’ a party.” Burt shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna be in the office over there, clearing out some paperwork. We’re kinda behind with all the election stuff.”

 

Kurt nodded. “There’s an extra coffee in the tray by the pot over there. The good kind. Sebastian brought it.”

 

“Oh yeah? Thanks. That was real thoughtful,” Burt said, his tone lightening up slightly.

 

“No problem. My mother always taught me to come bearing gifts, especially when you didn’t call first,” Sebastian said.

 

Burt chuckled and headed into the office.

 

When he was out of earshot, Sebastian leaned in to Kurt and said: “Two thoughts spring to mind. One, your dad is a little...”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Kurt muttered. “He can be. But he warms up.”

 

“And two, isn’t baldness hereditary?”

 

Kurt’s jaw dropped, and he bumped Sebastian’s shoulder hard. “Oh, hush! It’s a recessive trait! And it skips a generation!”

 

“You keep telling yourself that.” Sebastian shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve never taken me out to dinner, and I’ve already met your father.”

 

“I can’t believe you met my father...” Kurt said, shaking his head. “And you said _that._ ”

 

Sebastian covered his mouth. A winning impression, that. Getting caught talking about the ass stuff.

 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Kurt**

 

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Kurt said as Sebastian rolled his window down. “You really do have an Audi.”

 

“Shut your pretty mouth and get in the car,” Sebastian ordered.

 

Kurt did so, tossing his overnight bag in the back. Whatever Sebastian’s plan for the evening was, it apparently didn’t include getting home to Lima for dinner. After a decent amount of anxiety, Kurt had decided to go along with it. Sebastian’s wit had a wicked edge to it, but he’d not done anything ‘evil’ lately. Or at all, when Kurt looked back on it. Further, the things that Kurt had held the most against him, Sebastian had apologized for. Kurt didn’t blame him so much for his criticisms of the other McKinleyites. He was entitled to his opinion and had a good critical ear for when it came to vocals. 

 

It did help that Sebastian now wielded that wit with more care than he had before. And in general, Kurt wasn’t against a bit of reading, when it was deserved. Sometimes you had to open the library.

 

“Stop looking so nervous,” Sebastian said after a few minutes on the road. “I’m taking you to a gay club, not Mr. Sado-Puppet’s Evil House of Pain.”

 

Kurt screwed his brows together and stared at Sebastian, who just laughed. 

 

“So we’re _not_ going back to your house?” Kurt drawled.

 

“Heh. No. I said I wanted to show you what it can really be like. It’ll be fun.” Sebastian touched Kurt’s shoulder gently. “C’mon. You’re not gonna punk out on me now, are ya?”

 

“No, of course not. I’m just... Not so sure what to expect.”

 

“Well, _Queer as Folk_ didn’t have that part wrong. Although I’ve never been to the baths, to be honest, or been part of a Studs and Suds night, though that sounds like an electrical disaster waiting to happen. Oh, and DJs don’t spin rainbow technicolor 70s and 80s disco glittervomit.”

 

Kurt winced slightly. “I’ve never seen that show.”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes and made a wearied sound. “Are you _serious_? I hate to break this to you, but you know you’re _gay_ , right?”

 

“What, is that show our _Citizen Kane_? I’ve never seen it! It was on HBO and has explicit nudity and sex. My dad didn’t let me watch _Will and Grace_ when I was a kid. Why would _Queer as Folk_ make the cut?”

 

“Y’know, I’m pretty sure all of your family’s money problems could be solved by sticking a lump of coal up your dad’s ass.”

 

“Sebastian-!”

 

“You’d be up to your ears in sphincter diamonds!”

 

“Stop! He isn’t that bad. He just... He’s protective of me.”

 

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m guessing he doesn’t know where you’re going.”

 

“Does your dad?”

 

“Yeah. I mean, he _would_ if he’d been home. He’s the one who taught me how to drink.”

 

Kurt raised his brows and pinched his lips together. “Really?”

 

“Yeah, really. This isn’t me being pretentious. Europe let the Puritans all come over here for a reason. I got sips of wine as a kid, and he gave me instructions on how to stay hydrated and how soon to stop drinking so I could sober up before having to drive somewhere. I think it’s stupid that you get zero education on alcohol, and then, what, you suddenly are supposed to be responsible with it in your twenties?” Sebastian sneered and shook his head. “Americans are stupid. Trust, Kurt. I won’t get sloppy drunk on you and ruin your night.”

 

“I’m glad to hear that. As nice as this car is, I’d vastly prefer not to have to pry your hands out of my pants in the backseat.”

 

Sebastian frowned and went quiet for a few minutes.

 

“I mean, I get that there are different rules on the dance floor,” Kurt said in a lighter tone.“Especially where Britney is involved.”

 

“So, you’re talking about Blaine here?” Sebastian said finally. “That’s what you guys were yelling about? You had to pry his hands off you, and get out of the car? I knew he got handsy with me. I don’t know why I thought he would be less inappropriate with you... What an _asshole_. I should’ve let him end up street pizza.”

 

“What? Oh my God, don’t say that. I don’t want him _dead_ ,” Kurt scolded. “I just want him... Away from me. _Permanently_.”

 

“Prison would do that,” Sebastian grumbled.

 

Kurt crossed his arms and leaned to the side of his seat. After a moment of silence, he said in a gentle voice, “C’mon. Don’t let it ruin our night. You said you didn’t want him along. Let’s not bring him.”

 

“I know I’m a hypocrite for saying this, but you forgive people _way_ too easily,” Sebastian said, reaching over to turn on the radio.

 

“Who said I forgave him? I’ve done very little forgiving this year, actually.” Kurt uncrossed his arms and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “I just don’t want to _think_ about him right now.”

 

Sebastian let out a sigh. “Then, lemme just say, I cannot _believe..._ those _pants_. I mean, they aren’t the gold pants, but they’re gonna attract every twinkie, bear, and leatherdaddy for miles.”

 

Kurt laughed softly. “You don’t look bad yourself.”

 

“What, no sad frat look tonight?”

 

“You look immeasurably better. You could use some glitter, though.”

 

“If you want, we can stop somewhere, get some eyeliner and sparkles.” Sebastian winked at Kurt.

 

Kurt just laughed.

 

“I mean it. I will if you will. I’m not on the hunt tonight. We’re just out for a good time.” Sebastian tilted his head to the side. “Besides, I’m about a thousand percent certain that Kurt Hummel club-style will be just another layer of killer sexy.”

 

Kurt swallowed, feeling his cheeks burn. He still wasn’t used to that level of brazen honesty, or anyone being so vocal about their attraction to him.

 

“Well, that, or you’ll look like someone smeared guyliner on a Cabbage Patch doll.”

 

Kurt laughed and swatted Sebastian’s arm.

 

**Sebastian**

 

The banter on the way back to Westerville was a good bit of fun. Like any conversation with Kurt, there were one or two curveballs. A few things that Sebastian couldn’t believe that Kurt had said. Things that Kurt diminished, which he should not. It was at once, frustratingly Typical Kurt, and what made him interesting. No matter what, Kurt always kept Sebastian on his toes.

 

But overall, their conversation was comfortable, and by the time they pulled up, Sebastian was both excited to give Kurt his real club experience and disappointed that in a few minutes, he wouldn’t be able to hear Kurt’s lovely voice. 

 

“Why are we at a hotel?” Kurt said suspiciously.

 

“Because we’re going to be responsible and not drive home at 2:00am in the morning with sleep deprivation or alcohol in our veins. That’s what this place is for,” Sebastian instructed as he turned the car off.

 

Kurt got out and grabbed his bag. “I’d assume a place like this would be for guys who want a bed for their twenty minute relationships.”

 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes, then smiled slightly. “Well, they also rent out the night, and it’s not expensive.” He pointed across the street. “Plus, there are about three clubs within walking distance and a diner. I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about being responsible. We’ve got it covered. We’ll sleep the night and leave in the morning. You got off work at the shop, right?”

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Kurt was still looking around a bit dubiously. It was almost eight o’clock, and that meant some of the clubs were starting to open up. It was still early, though. Sebastian could see men and women walking along the streets, some dressed up like they were going to an awards ceremony, some looked like they’d rolled off the farm. Sebastian hadn’t been kidding about the leather, and seeing men in leather caps, jackets and pants caused Kurt’s eyes to grow comically wide.

 

Sebastian locked the car and walked over to Kurt, putting his hand on his shoulder. “You remember how, at Scandals, you didn’t wanna dance with me, but I pushed you to do it, and we had the best time we’d had all night?”

 

“I do.”

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

Kurt creased a brow slightly, then licked his lower lip and sucked it in for a moment as he looked around at all the people walking along the streets. 

 

“It wasn’t just fun,” he finally said. “It was... I dunno. It felt... free?”

 

“Have you really never gone to a Pride parade?”

 

“In Lima they’d probably throw tear gas at us.”

 

“You. Me. Columbus. Or New York. I bet I can get my dad to fund us a trip to New York in June,” Sebastian declared. “C’mon. I’m gonna get our room and drop our bags in there. Give me your jacket.”

 

Kurt looked down and seemed about to protest. It was a stylish white ‘straight-jacket’ style number, and it was cute. But it wasn’t going to work in the club. 

 

“Trust me,” Sebastian repeated. “We’re right across the street. Plus, we’ll be dancing, so you won’t feel the cold.”

 

Kurt sighed and took his jacket off. Underneath was a ‘cute’, fluffy tan sweater that came down over his hips. The scoop neck hinted at yet another layer below, of a striking eggplant purple button up.

 

“Lose the extra sweater, too, Snuffleupa-gay,” Sebastian ordered.

 

“What... fine.” Kurt pulled it over his head and tossed it to Sebastian. “Now, I’m definitely going to be cold.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sebastian said a bit weakly. He couldn’t put the force behind it that he had wanted to because now that he saw Kurt’s outfit without the extra fluff and layers, he was struck once again by how _handsome_ Kurt was. The black, nearly painted on jeans. The tight purple shirt. The skinny black tie in front.

 

“You keep trying to cover yourself up,” Sebastian said. He clicked his tongue. “It’s like wrapping a fuzzy baby blanket with _duckies_ on it around a piece of plutonium.”

 

Kurt tilted his head to the side. “I don’t entirely know if that’s a compliment.”

 

“I don’t really know either. C’mon. Let’s get started.”

 

**Kurt**

 

Kurt’s first impression of the gay club scene was that it was very, very _loud._

 

“I can hear it pounding out here,” Kurt said.

 

“What?” Sebastian turned his head. He’d been waving at someone. 

 

“The music! It’s loud!” 

 

Sebastian bobbed his head. “If we get separated, go hover by the pool tables. It’s not as loud, and I can come get you.”

 

“Is that a thing that happens?”

 

“Well, it gets crowded. It’s early, so we can try to get a table, but I’m not sure if we’ll have anyone around to watch drinks. I told a couple of people I know- Oh. Hey!” Sebastian waved again.

 

The next few moments were a blur. The bouncer flickered a light over Kurt’s fake ID, while looking at his face instead of the card, and then they were inside. Sebastian introduced him to three guys, Rafe, Chandler, and Naveen, and two girls, Amy and Jack. Together, the group grabbed a table, and Sebastian left him with them for several minutes while he went up to the bar.

 

“So I hear you’re playing a part in _The Tempest_?” asked Amy, who had blue streaks in her hair, which was woven into three French braids with a few wispies hanging around her face. She reminded him a little bit of what Tina might have grown into, if she had never dated Mike.

 

“Oh, yeah, I’m playing Ariel.”

 

“Oh my God, that’s _awesome_ ,” Rafe said, giving Kurt’s knee a squeeze. “I can so see you as Ariel, you tricksy spirit! Chan, you remember that video I showed you of the Ariel that does backflip out for his final exit?”

 

He and Chandler were both blond and energetic, though the latter was younger and wore glasses and a beanie. They started talking parts and plays, and Kurt bobbed his head, trying to understand what was being said over the loudness of the music.

 

Kurt was beginning to wonder if he belonged at this scene at all. It wasn’t miserable, like his experience at Scandals (which had multiple levels of problematic elements), but he felt out of place, and very exposed.

Jack touched his shoulder. “Hey! We’ve got you!”

 

“Thanks?” Kurt said.

 

At that moment, someone grabbed Kurt’s shoulders, and Kurt nearly fell out of his chair.

 

“Hey!” Nick flung his arms wide. 

 

“Oh! Nick! What- What’re you...?”

 

“How often do I get to come out with the big gays?” Nick laughed. “I’ll be your token bisexual for the evening.”

 

“Can I still grab your ass?” Rafe asked.

 

Nick turned around and wiggled for Rafe until he reached forward, and then Nick darted to the side. “Too slow, homo!”

 

“Whatever, bi-mo. I’ll get you later.”

 

Sebastian returned and handed Kurt a glass with a swirl of peach and orange colors and two cherries at the bottom.

 

“What is this?” Kurt mouthed. 

 

“You’ll like it!” Sebastian answered.

 

“What are you giving him a girl’s drink for?” Naveen laughed. 

 

“Kurt, that’s called a Sex on the Beach!” Jack said.

 

“It’s tradition!” Sebastian yelled. “That’s what Amy got me my first time here!”

 

“Oh, God, how do you even remember that!” Amy said. “You were so snockered that night!”

 

“It won’t get you snockered, I swear,” Sebastian said to Kurt. “That night, I just drank... _everything_.”

 

Kurt looked at the glass. He’d promised himself to try this experience, including a drink or two. Just because he’d not known how to handle the stuff April Rhodes had given him years ago didn’t mean he’d get out of control tonight. Plus, Sebastian had, very thoughtfully, arranged for a group of clearly older club-goers, plus a Warbler, to be there to keep an eye on them. They had a room to crash in. Kurt was running out of excuses not to try to have fun here.

 

Kurt let out a heavy breath and sipped the drink. It was sweet. He could taste the alcohol, definitely, but it wasn’t familiar to him.

 

“What do you think?” Amy asked. 

 

“It’s better than beer,” Kurt said honestly. “Really sweet!”

 

“Yeah, beer sucks,” Nick agreed. “Gimme schnapps any day. I don’t care if it’s girly.”

 

“God, why am I drinking with kids,” Naveen said with a shake of his head.

 

Kurt sat with the group, listening and sipping his drink. When he got to the cherries, he popped them in his mouth. There were more people filling up the dance floor now, and Nick grabbed Kurt’s hand and winked at Sebastian before giving Kurt a tug.

 

“C’mon. Let’s pop your clubbing cherry!” Nick said.

 

“Oh, um...” Kurt looked to Sebastian. 

 

Sebastian knocked back his own drink and came out on the dance floor with Kurt.

 

**Sebastian**

 

Kurt’s anxiety was palpable. Enough so that Sebastian was beginning to wonder if he shouldn’t have tried to ease Kurt into this more, even with the host of mentor-gays (plus Nick) at their backs. 

 

Then they got on the dance floor, and it all melted away. Sebastian should’ve realized that Kurt would be in his element the moment he was moving. The lights and the noise were overwhelming, but among the throng of sweating bodies, Kurt was utterly at home... At the same time though, he stood out. Sebastian didn’t fail to notice all the heads turning toward Kurt.

 

All the more reason to keep close. As though he needed another one.

 

**_I_ ** _discovered this gloriously delicious little twinkie. No one else is going to get a mouthful of him today._

 

Sebastian moved in a little closer, blocking a six-foot tall man (who had lost his shirt somewhere) from grinding up on Kurt. Looking back over his shoulder, Sebastian shot him a practiced ‘get lost’ look. The man laughed and shook his head as he moved on. Sebastian felt a little irritated on Kurt’s behalf that the man hadn’t tried harder.

 

Very quickly, though, Sebastian realized what a full time job it would be to keep interested guys away from Kurt at a real gay club. This was probably how Kurt had felt their first night at Scandals, with Blaine completely focused on Sebastian... Except.. what was Sebastian to Kurt, really? 

 

A friend. _Maybe_.

 

Sebastian sighed heavily as another tower of a man danced up to Kurt. He was made of muscles and tousled hair, and Kurt’s head fell back in laughter for some reason. Kurt’s arms went up over his head, and he wiggled his hips forward. The man caught Kurt’s hips and pulled them close. Sebastian froze for a moment, uncertain how Kurt would respond to such an aggressive move.

 

Rather than looking around for help, Kurt just swatted the man’s hand, causing him to let go, and kept dancing.

 

Well, that was patently unfair. Mr. Nice Hair had large enough hands that he’d been able to grope a bit of Kurt’s ass. Sebastian shook his head and headed to the bar for another drink. Kurt Hummel could handle himself.

 

Sebastian stayed there for a while, drinking with Jack. Amy loved to dance, but Jack, not so much. From his seat, he could sort of see Kurt’s fabulous purple shirt flickering in and out of the crowd. He couldn’t _quite_ see Kurt’s magical hips, but he could definitely imagine. Kurt probably had a whole harem by now.

 

“Stop sulking and get back out there!” Jack said.

 

“I’m not!” Sebastian knocked back the rest of his beer. “You know, maybe we should hit the next club. I’m not feeling this scene!”

 

“Chill your dill, kiddo! He’s just having fun. The boys have an eye on him!” Jack said.

 

“I don’t know what you think- I’m happy he’s having fun! He needs to cut loose!” 

 

She ruffled her short cropped hair. “Yeah, okay. So don’t bawl into your beer because all the toppy douches are after his pert little ass!”

 

Sebastian made a noise deep in his throat and slumped onto the table, letting the mindless club music pound into his brain.

 

_Hey, over there! Please, forgive me if I'm comin' on too strong! Hate to stare, but, you're winnin', and they're playin' my favorite song!_

 

“Oh, my God,” Sebastian grumbled. “It’s _Britney_.”

 

“So, come here, a little closer,” a familiar voice sang.

 

Sebastian looked up to seen Kurt dancing up to the table.

 

“Wanna whisper in your ear, make it clear, a little question. Wanna know just how you feel!” Kurt punctuated each line with his hips and held out a hand.

 

There was no resisting. Sebastian rose and followed him back out to the floor.

 

The music was pounding so loud that Sebastian could barely hear Kurt’s voice lifting over it, but he could, just enough: 

 

“If I said my heart was beating loud! If we could escape the crowd somehow! If I said I want your body now, would you hold it against me?”

 

“Yes, please hold it wherever you want!” Sebastian yelled.

 

Kurt laughed, then bounced in place and bit his lower lip. Sebastian thought he might die, seeing Kurt so cheerful. He realized that it was the one look on Kurt that he hadn’t seen before, and it suited him just as well as sadness, fear, and frustration.

 

“Hey, you might think that I'm crazy,” Sebastian sang, to Kurt, dancing energetically, “But you know I’m just your type! I might be a little hazy, but you just cannot deny! There’s a spark in between us when we’re dancin’ on the floor!”

 

“Maybe we... do have a spark!” Kurt yelled. He grabbed Sebastian’s hand and held it over himself as he did a twirl.

 

“You’re amazing!” Sebastian yelled.

 

Kurt shimmied his shoulders. “Thank you!”

 

“You’re so modest!”

 

Kurt laughed. “No! I mean for bringing me here!”

 

Sebastian slowed down a little.

 

“I might go deaf, but I’ll go out happy!

 

“That was the plan!” Sebastian managed.

 

**Kurt**

 

They circled through the ‘scenes’ at three clubs in the area (although Kurt saw them as mostly the same, with slightly different music, but one club had a drag show) before landing in a diner around two in the morning. Or most of the group they’d started out with did. Naveen and Chandler had both disappeared with someone else before the night was over. Sebastian was a little wobbly on his feet, though it seemed equal parts exhaustion and indulgence. Their fellow clubbers seemed to be suffering more from the latter, however, and seemed to think that some food and coffee would sober them up.

 

At the diner, Sebastian ordered chicken strips with honey mustard sauce, plus a cup of coffee. Kurt followed Amy and Rafe in ordering a breakfast plate, and Nick and Jack seemed to think burgers were a great idea at this hour. After the waitress deposited some coffee cups around and poured them their first round, Kurt yawned widely and slumped against Sebastian in the booth.

 

“You look like a sleepy kitten,” Sebastian muttered. He lifted up the coffee and blew on it.

 

“No. I am a lion.” Kurt made a snarling face and clawed at Sebastian’s shirt.

 

“You’re... Definitely. Definitely, you’re a lion,” Sebastian said, turning his head so that he was muttering into Kurt’s hair.

 

Kurt found himself shaking with laughter. And it wasn’t even really funny. He couldn’t still be drunk, could he? He’d really tried restrain himself, but guys had kept trying to buy him drinks. 

 

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you, dude!” a man bellowed a few tables away. 

 

Another man leapt to his feet, brandishing a fork.

 

“Oh, dear God,” Kurt said, perking up.

 

“For the love of...” Jack turned in her chair. “Ramp down the T, boys!”

 

The manager came darting into the dining room with a cellphone in hand and promising to call the police. After a few tense moments, the man with the fork threw it down and stormed out of diner.

 

“Drama, drama, drama,” Rafe sang. “Why is it always the straight-acting guys who gotta throw a mantrum about it?”

 

“Does this stuff happen every night?” Kurt asked.

 

Sebastian laughed.

 

“Usually, you just have drunk people trying to mate in weird places,” Nick drawled. “But yeah, you get enough alcohol in people, and I can see how spectacles of inappropriate manliness might occur on the regular.”

 

“Don’t be sexist. Dyke bars have their throwdowns, too,” Jack said.

 

“This is only like the second fight I’ve ever seen,” Sebastian promised Kurt. “Oh, um... In America, I mean. At the bars in England, I saw a couple... Um, maybe more than a couple?”

 

“Oh, so posh,” Kurt sighed, sliding back into the seat.

 

“Don’t tease me, I’m delicate,” Sebastian said. He leaned on his hand and looked at Kurt.

 

“What? Since when are _you_ delicate?”

 

Sebastian smiled and shook his head. “Eh, you know. Hey, the next time I’m here, can I tell all those douchebros you kept dancing with that I took you back to my hotel room?”

 

“No!” Kurt said, scandalized. Then, his eyes widened. “Yes. Do it.”

 

Sebastian closed his eyes and bowed his head over Kurt’s shoulder laughing. Jack shook her head and turned to Amy. Babygay-sitting time was over, apparently.

 

“On the way over, he kept telling me how sophisticated he is, and how he has all this knowledge on how to drink without getting drunk,” Kurt said to the others at the table.

 

“I can see that,” Rafe deadpanned. “You’re the most put together young gentleman I’ve ever met, hon.”

 

Sebastian pointed at him without lifting his head. “Shut it.”

 

Kurt found himself smiling fondly. He carded his fingers through Sebastian’s hair, enjoying the feeling of the soft, slightly sweaty, slightly crispy with hair gel, brown tresses. Sebastian made a groaning noise as Kurt started to scratch very gently.

 

“See, what did I tell you. Weird mating,” Nick joked.

 

“No mating,” Kurt said sternly. “Just... comfort.”

 

Sebastian looked up. “I just realized I haven’t slept in like, twenty hours.”

 

“Poor baby,” Amy said. She twined her arm through Jack’s and rested her head on Jack’s shoulder while the other woman drank her coffee.

 

“It’s okay, Sebastian. After dinner we can go back to the hotel? Right?” Kurt said.

 

“Wait, did you two really get a hotel room?” Rafe asked.

 

Sebastian held up the key card. 

 

“It’s so we don’t have to drive all the way back to Lima,” Kurt told him. 

 

“Suuure.”

 

“Ignore them,” Kurt instructed. 

 

He rested his head on the back of the booth and closed his eyes, listening to the conversations of the people around them. As weird and spinny as his head was, Kurt couldn’t say that he’d ever enjoyed a night out with his friends more. People didn’t stare at him like he was a freak. They’d stared because they thought he was attractive. Guys _liked_ him. They wanted to dance with him. To put drinks in his hand. To try to get him to come to the bathroom with them. (Though Kurt wouldn’t go that far.)

 

And it was good to know that Sebastian had a group of friends like these. They seemed to come from all over, except for Nick. And Kurt had always liked Nick. That Sebastian’s real friends were a decent group of people, now talking about workplace equity (or Jack and Amy were, about one of their friends getting fired after transitioning, while Rafe told Nick a long and involved story that seemed like it would end with boinking a _very_ tall man), and that boded well. It spoke to something about Sebastian that Kurt hadn’t believed before.

 

“If I said I want your body now,” Sebastian suddenly sang loudly, “would you hold it against me?!”

 

The table erupted into laughter. 

 

“‘Cause you feel like paradise!” Kurt sang. “And I need a vacation tonight!”

 

“Shhh! Sh!” Amy held her hands out. “Don’t you get us kicked out before I get my eggs and bacon!”

 

“Drunk little twinkies,” Rafe said with a sigh. He turned to Jack. “Oh, to be young again.”

 

“You are _twenty-five_!” she laughed.

 

“I _knooow_ ,” he said dramatically.

 

Sebastian turned to Kurt and squeezed his knee. “Still happy you came?”

 

“Letting you drag me into this was probably one of the best decisions I’ve made in a _year_.”

 

 

_Author’s Note: That thing with the drunk guy threatening someone with a fork actually happened one night after clubbing. Good times._

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Sebastian**

“You lied! You lied! You lied!” Kurt cried, hopping up and down as they hurried back to their hotel at 3:32am. “Itʼs freakinʼ _freezing_!”

“I know, but you were drop dead gorgeous without all that crap on!” Sebastian argued.

“I like my crap. It was fuzzy and warm!”

 “Well, weʼre almost there. You can snuggle up in it and pass out.”

 “Iʼm awake _now_. Iʼm going to properly wash my face before we go to bed.”

With a bit of guilt, Sebastian watched Kurt rubbing his bare arms. Heʼd known Kurt would be cold, but heʼd also known that heʼd have a better time without wearing a fuzzy blanket to a damn gay club.

“Here.” Sebastian took a step back and wrapped his arms around Kurt from behind.

“Sebastian!” Kurt laughed.

 “The finest in fall fashion!” Sebastian howled. “Only the hottest men are wearing him!”

“Thereʼs something filthy in that.”

“Yeah, the filthy, hot guys who are _wearing ME_.” 

Kurt reached back to spank Sebastianʼs behind, but only managed to reach his side.

“Hey, youʼre warmer now, right?” Sebastian teased. 

“I guess,” Kurt leaned his head back a little, to see Sebastian.

 “Then quitʼcher bitchinʼ.”

If any of the other people stumbling to their cars noticed anything strange about the two of them walking that way, no one said anything. Surely, theyʼd seen other, stranger sights this late on a Saturday night... er. Sunday morning.

When they reached the hotel again, Kurtʼs teeth were chattering. He seemed to try to make them stop every so often, or muffle the noise, but then theyʼd start up again. Sebastian picked up the pace and ushered Kurt inside.

“We can run the shower. Youʼll warm up pretty quick that way, right?”

“Yeah,” Kurt muttered. “Thanks.”

 “I promised to take care of you tonight. I didnʼt mean to freeze you.”

“Thatʼs okay.” Kurt slipped into the elevator with him. “It cleared my head.”

Given the license to touch, Sebastian continued to rub his hands over Kurtʼs arms, and gradually, Kurt stopped shaking so much. When they reached the fourth floor, Kurt pulled away as the doors opened. Sebastian dipped his head, wondering how long heʼd thought heʼd be permitted that level of closeness-- until Kurt took his hand and led him into the hallway.

“Donʼt get lost,” Kurt instructed.

“Iʼm not that drunk. Iʼm barely buzzed, now,” Sebastian protested.

Kurt twirled around and grinned as he pulled Sebastian along. “I know. Which oneʼs ours?”

“Oh. Um, 304. Over there.”

“Weʼre by the ice!”

“How are you so excited about that?” Sebastian laughed. He pulled out his keycard and opened the door.

“This is only the second time Iʼve ever stayed in a hotel.” Kurt followed behind Sebastian, looking around at the decor. It was clean. With large windows that faced the strip where the club and diner were. The carpets were blue, the walls striped. There was a painting of a nebulously human figure in the middle of a full-body twist above the bed.

“Hard to believe this is a gay hotel.”

“Itʼs not a gay hotel.” Sebastian flicked on the lights and went to the bed to open up his bag. “Itʼs a hotel next to the clubs.”

“For the purpose of people falling somewhere on the rainbow to come over here and hook up,” Kurt shot back.

“Point. But the people in this room right now didn't come to hook up.” Sebastian stared intently at the pajamas heʼd packed. Full jammies? Not exactly the manliest choice. He shouldʼve just grabbed a t-shirt and shorts.

“No,” Kurt agreed. He flopped back on the second bed and lifted his legs up, straight in the air.

“I... um...” Sebastian caught himself staring and turned away.

“What? Do you want to get into the bathroom to change?”

 “I- no. Iʼm fine. Go ahead. Do your rigorous sloughing.” 

Kurt laughed. “How do you remember that?”

“Because at the time I was _dying_ , trying not to laugh. Youʼre so damn blunt sometimes. Or polite. Or both. Youʼre a contradiction. Itʼs intriguing.”

Kurt stretched back on the bed and loosened his tie. “Am I. Well, I have to say, Iʼm not sure youʼre a contradiction, but Iʼve definitely learned more about you tonight.”

“Have you?” Sebastian set down his clothes and sat on the bed. “What did you learn?”

“That you can be kind. That you can look out for other people without an ulterior motive. A _grand plan_.” Kurt rolled his head over to look at Sebastian. 

“How do you know _this_ wasnʼt my plan?” Sebastian leaned over and rested his arms on his knees. “Maybe I have you right where I want you.”

“Okay, then.” Kurt stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “What are you gonna do with me?”

Sebastianʼs brows raised. His eyes locked on Kurtʼs reclining form, stretched long and languid, like a playful cat. If Sebastian reached out to touch him, would Kurt strike? Would he lean into the caress? Would he open those rosy lips, press them to Sebastianʼs neck..?

“If I said I wanted your body now,” Kurt sang.

“Would you hold it against me...” Sebastian muttered. “How did I let you make me a guy who sings Britney Spears? Ugh.”

“Aw. Britney is fun. Maybe sheʼs no Chopin, but neither are most pop stars, to be honest. That doesnʼt mean their music doesnʼt bring a modicum of joy to my life.” Kurt bit his lower lip. “Are you ashamed to be sharing a room with me? Am I the kind of gay youʼd avoid in the straight world?”

“Maybe I would have, once,” Sebastian admitted, “but... I donʼt know if you noticed, but out in _our_ world, youʼre not exactly on the bottom of the homo food chain.”

“That wonʼt mean anything when I go back home. I know who I am. I know what I can do. But back there, Iʼm still the guy who doesnʼt get the part, the guy doesnʼt get the solo, the second favorite son, the one who has to make his own chances.” Kurt started to unbutton his shirt as he looked up at the ceiling. “Iʼm the guy with the hard-luck case of the _gay face_.”

“I didnʼt...” Sebastian ran his hand over his mouth. “I meant...”

“I know what you meant. I donʼt pass.” Kurtʼs hand stopped halfway down his chest, and he slipped his fingers inside over his smooth chest. “If I acted, I could. If I lowered my voice. If I pretended to be someone else. I just wondered, if you still thought I should do those things.”

Sebastian stood up and walked up to the mirror. “That feels like anathema now. You have gorgeous blue-green eyes and long lashes. Your lips are pretty. Your voice is the most unique Iʼve ever heard. If that makes you unacceptable to others, I donʼt care what they think. And yeah, Iʼm good at making plans. Iʼm the Prince.”

He turned and looked to Kurt, who was now propping himself up on his elbows.

“Iʼm also very good at assessing the situation and changing my mind based on the facts,” Sebastian said.

“Okay.”

Sebastian sighed in frustration and kicked off his shoes. He came over to the bed and sat beside Kurt. Then, he laid down next to him. Their heads were close together, and Kurt was looking at him intently.

“Kurt, I...”

“What?”

Sebastian stared into his eyes, trying to parse the flickers of his movement. To read Kurtʼs mind.

“I donʼt want Britney to be our song,” Sebastian said.

Kurt grinned. “It doesnʼt have to be our song. It can just be, our joke. Your song is whatever you decide it is, I think. You decide whatʼs yours. Donʼt let random happenstance force you into things you donʼt want to do.”

“What about things I do want to do?” 

Kurtʼs smile turned coy. “I think youʼre more qualified than I to assess those.”

“Youʼre such a tease,” Sebastian accused. 

“Maybe...”

 “Why donʼt you just _do_ what you wan-”

Kurt rolled his head over again and met Sebastianʼs lips. Sebastian made a noise of surprise in his throat. Kurt was a dominate but tender kisser, and Sebastian responded first out of instinct, then out of desire. He could taste the mints from the diner on Kurtʼs breath, smell the scent of Kurtʼs cologne mingled deliciously with a nightʼs worth of sweat. Sebastianʼs hand ran up Kurtʼs neck, eager to hold him in place, to keep this one from getting away.

But then to his chagrin, Sebastian pulled back. “Drunk kiss,” he muttered, to let Kurt off he hook.

“I drank less than you did.” Kurtʼs eyes flickered up and down Sebastianʼs face, looking for clues. “Or are you saying, youʼre too drunk...? Itʼs okay. I donʼt want you to regret-”

“I wonʼt, I just-”

 “Since when are you one to deny yourself pleasure?” Kurt flattened his lips. “Is it me?”

“Youʼre not some disposable twink I picked up in a bar. Youʼre the guy I bring with me, and I leave with,” Sebastian replied, a little angrily.

Kurtʼs brows raised. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Sebastian reached over and cupped Kurtʼs cheek. Something about the shape of his face was almost eerily beautiful. He ran his thumb over Kurtʼs cheekbone (still shining with glitter; that stuff never came off), then down his jawline. “Well, if weʼre equally inebriated, maybe...”

“We could...?”

Their lips came together again. Almost like being drawn together like magnets, it was so inevitable. This time Sebastianʼs hand moved down the back of Kurtʼs shirt, feeling his way down the arch of his spine, then cupping the ass heʼd been staring at all night. Kurtʼs hands were more diligent; they went to work on opening up Sebastianʼs shirt, and then felt down his sides. Sebastian pulled Kurt forward as he moved himself and pressed their chests flush together.

Side by side they kissed for some time, breathless, exploring, seeking no real goal, save for contact. It felt good. As good as anything Sebastian had done, half-drunk, after coming back from a bar. Except this was with someone he wouldnʼt feel ashamed to say he woke up to the next day. This was someone he wouldnʼt mind spending his time with afterwards.

There was nothing disposable about Kurt Hummel.

And as hesitant as he could be about new things, Kurt took to _this_ energetically. Had he wanted this? Thought about it? Sebastian was unsure. Kurt hadnʼt seemed, until now, to be ready to go this far, but he knew that Kurt had some experience...

When they broke to catch their breath, Sebastian still held Kurt tightly and petted his hair as though he needed to calm or comfort Kurt. It wasnʼt necessary. There was something wild in Kurtʼs eye now. Something like what Sebastian saw in his eye on the dance floor, or when he was on stage.

Kurtʼs hands moved to the top of Sebastianʼs pants and deftly unbuttoned them before Sebastian could protest. He arched a brow and returned the favor.

“Ever heard of a gay manʼs handshake?” Sebastian said with a grin. When Kurt frowned slightly, Sebastian stood up and grabbed the sides of Kurtʼs tight, tight pants and tugged.

It required some help from Kurtʼs end, but when Sebastian had them off, he reached forward, meeting Kurt in the eye as he did so, and rubbed the thick, ample bulge beneath Kurtʼs briefs.

Sebastian squeezed Kurtʼs firm thighs and grinned. “Well, what do I do with that?”

“You...” Kurt's eyes widened. “Seriously?”

 “Youʼve never?”

 “Well, not from this end,” Kurt admitted.

_Typical_ , Sebastian thought. He reached up to loop his fingers under the waistband of Kurtʼs briefs and slowly slide them down, revealing his prize. “Hello, there... _Niiice_.”

“Thank you?”

“Could you stop being cute? Iʼm trying to blow you here. Trust, you _donʼt_ want me to laugh while Iʼm doing this.”

Kurt covered his mouth. He still seemed to be in a state of disbelief, but Sebastian aimed to wipe that smile off his face and replace it with an entirely different type.

Sebastian licked his lips, then approached the _grande_ meal in front of him bit by teasing bit. He stroked the base of Kurtʼs cock as he worked his way up, and just as Kurt was starting to make breathy, needy sounds, he dropped his jaw wider and dragged his teeth, very carefully, down the shaft. This elicited a bit of a gasp from Kurt, almost sounding like a noise of protest, but his hand, reaching down as though grasping for more, said otherwise.

When he was done teasing, Sebastian wrapped his lips around his teeth and demonstrated one of the many talents his mouth possessed. Kurt was panting, letting out soft mewling noises. The sound had a string right to Sebastianʼs cock, every noise seemed to make it jump a little. But he didnʼt let up. He knew how relentless he could be.

When Kurt let out a sudden, shocked, cry, Sebastian just milked him harder. He couldʼve done more, with more time, but he also had been in Kurtʼs position. The first really good orgasm, even if it came quick, was worth every fleeting second. And Sebastian drank him down like the very elixir of life.

Sebastian wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and watched Kurt collapsing back.

“Oh, um, so thatʼs...” Kurt muttered incoherently.

“Oh, heʼs speechless? Now I know how to make it happen, maybe I donʼt wanna stop.” Sebastian draped himself on his side next to Kurt and smugly brushed the hair out of Kurtʼs face.

“I... think I get it now,” Kurt said a bit breathlessly. “This whole... sex thing. Why youʼd want to do it all the time.”

“Good.” Sebastian pressed a kiss to Kurtʼs cheek and laid a hand on his bare chest. “Lifeʼs too short for bland orgasms.”

“Gay manʼs handshake, huh?” Kurt raised a brow.

No part of their night was spent sleeping. Sebastian hadnʼt taken Kurt here tonight, to the clubs, to the hotel room, with a plot in mind, but he was more than willing to acknowledge that this was his most fruitful, and unexpected, opportunity since heʼd returned to the States. And heʼd ride this one as long as he could.

 


	15. Part Fifteen

 

**Kurt**

With a shudder, Kurt curled back under the covers and pressed his feet against the warm flesh behind him.

 

“Ah!”

 

Kurt yawned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut. The air was cold, but the bed warm, and he had no pressing reason to move.

 

“You have the coldest feet on the _planet_ ,” a voice laughed behind him.

 

“Do not,” Kurt muttered.

 

“Do too.” Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt and chuckled. “Covers thief.”

 

“Not much covers to thief.” Kurt rubbed his eye and looked up.

 

Kurt turned his head on the pillow, feeling his heart starting to pound as he began to remember. He had a bed buddy. Sebastian was watching him, with the clear eyes of someone who had been awake for a while, and smiling warmly.

 

“Hey,” Sebastian said.

 

“Hey,” Kurt replied. He blinked a few times and then shook his head. “I um... I never got to shower last night.”

 

He hopped out of bed, tensing as the cold air hit him, grabbed his bag and darted toward the bathroom.

 

“You should try to make it quick. I think we're pressing up against our checkout time,” Sebastian called after him.

 

“Okay!”

 

Kurt shut the door. He realized he was only wearing a pair of briefs. It was some kind of miracle that he was wearing even that, since they'd shed their clothes _long_ before settling into the bed. He remembered, after a moment, that Sebastian had stretched over the side of the bed to fetch them for Kurt, so he could wriggle into them under the covers before they both passed out on top of each other like exhausted puppies.

 

Puppies were possibly too innocent an image for all they'd done last night.

 

Kurt shut the door to small bathroom, pulled out his face and hair care products, and got into the shower, his mind spinning over what had happened last night. There was no excusing it. He wasn't sure he _wanted_ to excuse it, either. He felt, though, like he _should_ want to. He felt like he _should_ be ashamed of his actions.

 

His buzz had been all but gone by the time they'd gotten back to the hotel (especially due to the cold). He'd assessed Sebastian's interest, his words, and made the active _choice_ to kiss him. And yet, in the daylight (of almost noon), his decision to sleep with Sebastian seemed inexplicable. Kurt was barely out of his last relationship, and while he and Sebastian were more friendly than they had been by quite a lot, they still didn't know one another _that_ well. There had been no reason to rush things.

 

Other than that, in the moment, Kurt had really, really wanted to kiss Sebastian. And once they'd kissed, he'd wanted more than chaste, teasing touches.

 

Kurt went to work on his hair quickly, in case Sebastian wanted a shower as well, and tried not to overthink what had happened. When he emerged from the bathroom, Sebastian had his bag on the bed, packed and zipped up. Sebastian looked up, pressed his lips together, and furrowed his brows.

 

“I see your layers are back.”

 

“It's, um, it's cold in here.”

 

“Yeah, sorry about that. I think our heater gave out during the night.” Sebastian grinned. “Not that I noticed.”

 

Kurt laughed softly. “Yeah, we found ways to keep _warm_.”

 

Sebastian went over to the little vanity outside of the bathroom and collected his toothbrush and face wash.

 

“Do you want a shower?”

 

“We don't actually have time, unless I want to pay for another day.”

 

“Oh. Sorry.”

 

“It's not your fault. I could've gotten up earlier. I can be be-glittered for a little while longer. Anyway, we should get on the road.”

 

Kurt bobbed his head quietly.

 

Sebastian zipped up his suitcase once more and then put his hands on his hips. “You ready?”

 

“Um, give me a second.”

 

“I'll run down and turn in our keys. Meet me in the lobby?”

 

Kurt nodded and returned to the bathroom to grab his toiletries. It didn't take much to pull his things together, but as he moved to step out the door, Kurt found himself frozen. He curled his hands into his sleeves and crossed his arms, frowning in thought.

 

He'd turned the previous night over in his mind three and a half times when Sebastian poked his head in the door. “What's the hold up here? Lost your jewels?”

 

“Ha ha.” Kurt rolled his eyes.

 

“Nooo. 'Cause I _know_ you've got those.” Sebastian stepped into the room. “Look, I already took my case downstairs... What needs doing? Did you really lose something?”

 

'No, no. Nothing like that.”

 

Sebastian licked his lips and raked his eyes over Kurt. “I like to think of myself as good at reading people. In the body language way as well as the 'for filth' way. I feel like it's going to be an impediment to our relationship if half the time I've offended you or aggravated some painful psychological wound that I didn't know existed.”

 

He spread his hands. “So until I know you better, you're just going to have to tell me when I've hurt you. What did I do?”

 

“You didn't- It's not your fault. I'm just... stupid.” Kurt shook his head and looked down.

 

“Well. That's the _opposite_ of true.” Sebastian took one more step and was standing beside Kurt, trying to catch his eye.

 

“I'm really not trying to be difficult. We can go.” Kurt picked up his bag.

 

“Um.” Sebastian shrugged. “Other individuals you may have dated might feel differently, but... Within reason, having feelings about things isn't 'being difficult.' I'm not an expert on relationships, though. In that aspect... You probably have the edge in experience.”

 

Kurt laughed. “Ohh, no. Just... the _Blaine_ of it all. But... That's kind of...” He set his bag down again. “I'm just thinking... What kind of guy hops into bed with someone a _week_ after breaking up with the last guy? That's just...”

 

Kurt shook his head and let out a frustrated sigh.

 

Sebastian lifted his chin slightly. “So you... regret last night or- No...” He crossed one arm over his chest and pointed at Kurt. “You think that there's something wrong with you for enjoying it?”

 

“Not sure. Maybe the last one there.” Kurt met Sebastian's eye and was slightly comforted to see that Sebastian wasn't pulling a face or welling up with tears. “It _does_ make me feel a little _less_ like an irresponsible slut to hear you so casually and confidently referring to _us_ as a relationship.”

 

Sebastian threw up his hands. “You have _the_ most impossible standards for yourself. You know that, right? You knew I was interested, and you didn't want to respond to that while you were with someone, so you _didn't_. And last night we had a good time, and you took me up on it. That's all. That doesn't make you a slut.” He sighed. “Would it make you feel better if we just compared you to _me_? Because I've banged guys I had _no_ intention of seeing ever again.”

 

“That just makes me wanna get tested,” Kurt shot back.

 

Sebastian laughed. “I've been tested, okay. That's _my_ way of being responsible.”

 

“That's... good to know. Actually.” Kurt scratched the back of his head.

 

“Is this a big thing? Do you not want to...”

 

Kurt reached over and took Sebastian's hand. “Hey, _no_. I... I guess I just feel weird jumping into this the way we did. Don't get me wrong! I _wanted_ to do it. And if I'm really honest, I wouldn't change anything. It's just strange for me because we haven't even _really_ been out on a date.”

 

“Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Though, we _have_ done coffee.”

 

“Okay, I know you're on relationship training wheels, but bringing me coffee at the garage does _not_ count as a date.”

 

“No?” Sebastian tilted his head back and squinted his eyes. “You sure?”

 

Kurt pursed his lips and shook his head. Then he cupped Sebastian's face and pressed a decisive kiss to his lips.

 

“So, you _do_ want to do this?” Sebastian asked, his voice brittle like a sheet of delicate ice.

 

It was sweet in a way that Sebastian could feel as uncertain as Kurt did about where they stood, even if he had zero qualms about sleeping together so soon. Sebastian had enough reason to be nervous. He was just much more likely to put himself out there. Much more likely to grab vigorously for what he wanted in the moment, or in life. In truth, Kurt wondered _why_ he felt so ashamed. There was no one else here. Whose business was it how they'd gotten together? Whose business who Kurt decided to sleep with, and when?

 

“I want... Hm. I want you to go out with me.” Kurt ran his fingers through Sebastian's hair. “A real date?”

 

“And do what? Go to a wine tasting? Couples' skating?”

 

“I don't care if we go _bowling_.” Kurt pulled back, picked up his bag, and took Sebastian's hand. “I just want to spend more time with you. We don't have to move in together. That's probably illegal at our age. But we could find some things to do together... see if this might work?”

 

“Oh,” Sebastian breathed.

 

“I mean-” Kurt turned to shut the door behind them. “-aside from in the bedroom, where we _know_ that we work.”

 

“Definitely true.” Sebastian nodded slowly. He stepped into the elevator first and looked at Kurt intensely.

 

Kurt pressed the button and looked up to read Sebastian's expression. “Let's just take a step back. Unless you're more interested in the bedroom parts than the us parts.”

 

“Normally? I'd just be for the 'bedroom,' though honestly I hardly ever _make it_ to an actual room-”

 

“Then the Scandals bathroom parts,” Kurt teased.

 

Sebastian grinned. “But with you? I'll take whatever I can get.”

 

Kurt reached over and took Sebastian's hand again. He licked his lips and sucked in the lower lip as he thought.

 

“You're so stupid cute,” Sebastian said. “I so don't get how you can be so cute.”

 

“Just good genes, I guess.”

 

“I can see _some_ of it from your dad. He might make a good bear-”

 

“ _Oh_ , my _god_.”

 

“But your mom must've been _gorgeous_.”

 

Kurt pressed his lips together and stared at the elevator doors. Sebastian dipped his head, likely feeling like he didn't know whether what he'd said was appropriate, or not. It was funny. Blaine had never wondered about Kurt's feelings like that. He'd compared the death of Kurt's mother to the death of a bird the Warblers had bought to haze him. He'd joked about Kurt's lack of comfort with sex, and used it first to deny Kurt intimacy and then later to try to win an argument. In fact, any feeling Kurt had offered freely had become a weapon against him eventually.

 

Sebastian seemed superficial. He seemed like the kind of guy who cared about nothing and no one. He had seemed like a cruel, selfish person. But he was a lot more than he seemed.

 

The elevator doors opened.

 

“She was,” Kurt said. He led the way through the lobby to the parking lot.“Or I thought she was. Maybe all kids think their moms are the most beautiful woman in the world.”

 

“Not all of them.”

 

“Do you talk with your mother much? I mean-”

 

“My real mom. No. I don't. She has her new family.” Sebastian shrugged as he reached for his keys. “And I hate my step-mother. She's not wicked, and she makes dad happy, and that's about all I can ask for. She's really young, though. She's like twenty-seven.”

 

Kurt smiled. “I had problems with Carole, too, when she and my dad started dating. And I was the one to set them up!”

 

“Sounds complicated.”

 

Kurt shrugged and got into the car. “It's kind of a long story. And one in which I do not come out exactly _comme une odeur de rose_.”

 

They spent the drive back to Lima in deep conversation. It had been a long time since Kurt had talked so openly about what his family life had been like with his mother, and what it had been like after she'd died. He didn't even volunteer much with his friends what it was like living there with the Hudsons now because he wasn't likely to get an unbiased ear.

 

Sebastian was unfailingly honest. He could be a bit rash in his judgments, but he never came off as trying to persuade Kurt what to think about these things. And listening to Sebastian's own admissions about his life, Kurt felt that in spite of the vast gap between them, there were things that they both understood very well about life and how people worked.

 

The sex complicated things with Sebastian, but oddly, for Kurt, he felt less and less vulnerable talking to him. He could have let that night put distance between them, let it be the end to that part of their relationship and then stepped back to 'friends' or occasional 'sex buddies.' Instead he felt himself drawn closer. How was it that he at once embodied both his father's descriptions of the 'typical guy' wanting sex all the time _and_ the 'typical girl' getting too invested?

 

At red lights, Kurt reached for Sebastian's hand. Sebastian more than once smiled and brushed Kurt's drying hair out of his eyes. They were almost back to Lima when Sebastian pulled over to a side road.

 

“Where are we going?” Kurt asked.

 

“There's a bowling alley over there. Let's get lunch.”

 

“You have got to be kidding. Won't you die from bowling alley food?”

 

“I _might_.” Sebastian pulled in and launched out of the car.

 

“He's serious. This is the guy I'm dating.” Kurt looked up as Sebastian opened the door for him.

 

“Hey, you came up with the bowling alley date idea.” Sebastian held his hands up.

 

“I _did_ ,” Kurt admitted. He got out of the car and looked over the area. It was nearly empty. Middle of the day on a Sunday. “Are they open?”

 

“If they're not, you're gonna take me out for a night in Lima...” Sebastian bounded over to the doors and looked inside. “They're open.”

 

“Goodie.”

 

Sebastian winked and hit the lock on his car.

 

“Have _you_ ever bowled before?” Kurt stepped up to the door and gave a slight bow as Sebastian opened it for him.

 

“Nope.”

 

“This should be fun.”

 

**Sebastian**

 

As it turned out Sebastian had no natural gift when it came to bowling. His talents lay in eating french fries and a questionable hot dog while watching Kurt perform ballet poses and landing strike after strike after strike. Just as when the mood hit on the dance floor, Kurt's grace was effortless.

 

A few times, Kurt had wiped his hands and come up to help Sebastian position himself, but it had proved useless. Sebastian shot the last few frames granny style, to the utter amusement of Kurt. Sebastian liked hearing Kurt's laughter, he found, almost more than he liked winning.

 

The next day, Sebastian went through his classes doing what he presumed Kurt couldn't help but do: replaying the weekend's events in his mind. He doodled on his pre-calc notes and barely heard what his French teacher was saying. He only came out of his fog to hear Wes and Nick arguing about the finer points of their performance on Friday.

 

“We're not changing anything the _week_ before Sectionals,” Sebastian said irritably. “We're not Nude Erections.”

 

Nick grinned at Wes, then slid down the side of the sofa. “How was the rest of _your_ weekend?”

 

“It was fine.” Sebastian glared at him and then collected his notes to try to find someplace that was actually quiet.

 

Just as he was heading to lunch, Sebastian saw a flurry of texts coming in.

 

_Hey, bowl king. How's tricks?_

 

Sebastian smirked. _Only got the one. So how are YOU?_

 

He quickly collected his lunch and then snuck outside to call.

 

“Hey, boyfriend,” Kurt answered cheerfully.

 

Sebastian felt a wash of adrenaline come over him. He would've been lying to say that Kurt's doubts, however reasonable, hadn't worried him a bit yesterday. But it seemed in Kurt's nature to worry through every possible aspect of something. When they were in the moment, Kurt didn't seem worried at all.

 

“Hey, superstar. How's life back in the black mold?”

 

“Gross. Today has been unexceptional. Just... _so much_ drama between our two show choirs. The race for class president is heating up. Brittany is handing out candy and promising to go topless for votes.”

 

“That's... classy.” Sebastian put the phone on speaker so he could arrange his lunch and still hear Kurt. “Maybe _you_ should promise that. You'll get all the girls and the closet gays.”

 

“Ha ha. There are probably more of those than you'd think. Up to and including one of the significant others of a fellow candidate.”

 

“The school politics at McKinley are weird. Why don't any of the teachers tell them that they can't bribe votes?”

 

“Because the teachers don't care. The position has limited powers anyway.” Kurt sighed. “It's just a resume builder. One that I'm gonna _lose_ unless I pull a JFK.”

 

“You're gonna shoot the bitches?” Sebastian suggested with a laugh.

 

“ _No_. When Kennedy ran against Nixon in 1960 he had all his mob buddies in Chicago stuff the ballot boxes so he'd win Illinois,” Kurt explained, not unlike a teacher. “It won him the presidency.”

 

“Well, I could help you with that,” Sebastian suggested, although he knew Kurt would never seriously considering cheating. “I could probably send some Warblers in with extra ballots to give you a boost. I hear there's a kid at McKinley that looks like Trent.”

 

Kurt laughed. “Yeah, maybe.”

 

“You're such a history nerd,” Sebastian said fondly.  
  


“I have Kennedy's impeccable hairline. Why can't I have his ends-justifies-the-means mentality?”

 

“I think your best bet would be instead to read your opponents into the ground, honestly. Who's running?”

 

“Rachel. Brittany. A hockey player named Rick the Stick.”

 

“Read them. TO FILTH,” Sebastian advised.

 

Kurt was quiet for a moment. Maybe he was upset at the thought. Maybe that was still too 'low-road' for Kurt Hummel.

 

“You're fantastic,” Kurt said finally. “Sorry. I had a lurker over my shoulder. I don't know if Rachel is spying for intel or just trying to get me to forgive her again. Tell me what's going on in Warblerville.”

 

“You might be surprised to know that we have very _little_ drama the week before we perform.”

 

“Oh! Right. Your Sectionals is this week.” Kurt paused. “Can I come? Would you mind? That's not spying, is it?”

 

“Not at all. We have different numbers for Sectionals and Regionals. What you see on Friday has little bearing on the Hell we're going to put the Nude Erections through.” Sebastian wished he could hold Kurt's hand right now. He wished he could watch his face and see his responses, laughing, frowning. “You don't have rehearsal?”

 

“We're off for the night. I mean the Shakespeare, not Glee, which never practices on Friday. We have the night off and start the second round of rehearsals on Saturday.”

 

“Then come. You need a break from entertaining the populace.”

 

“Yes! I will!”

 

Sebastian could imagine Kurt bouncing in place. “Though it's a pity no one will be able to see your Ariel anymore... I may have snuck in a few extra times to see what I was missing.”

 

“You're sweet.”

 

“Don't tell anyone.”

 

\---

 

The Warblers waited in the backstage area, with a few boys messing with their hair. Sebastian breathed in deeply as he mentally ran through each of the major changes in their performance. He'd been putting on a fiercely confident front, but now was the moment for them all to bring their best, or have nothing at all.

 

They would lead with “Uptown Girl,” then move on to their more salacious numbers. Nick had been immaculate, and they'd been practicing it since September.

 

“Look at all the handsome songbirds!” Kurt said from the doorway.

 

“Hey!” David came up to him with a huge smile. “You're here!”

 

“Are you checking on the competition?” Wes asked.

 

“Hardly.” Kurt shook his head and looked to Sebastian. “Hey.”

 

“Hey.” Sebastian brushed imaginary motes of dust from his blazer and stepped toward Kurt. “You made it.”

 

“I told you I wanted to come.” Kurt breathed in deeply. He was dressed like he was going to an upscale party in New York. His creamy pale skin, his well-coiffed hair (with the impeccable hairline), and the fitted suit jacket in a lovely, deep shade of blue.

 

“You look like you did when I first met you,” Sebastian said, a little breathless.

 

“Oh?” Kurt glanced down at himself. “I thought this was a little less 'great aunt's attic,' as far as looks went?”

 

“No, I mean... You look like a freakin' model.”

 

Kurt's mouth opened. He let out a soft noise and then smiled. “You look very handsome as well. About to break those judges' hearts?”

 

“And scandalize them a little, too, I hope.” Sebastian's eyes continued to rake over Kurt's face. His smile began to fade as he took in the redness around Kurt's eyes. And just a little around the tip of his nose. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”

 

“What?” Kurt ineffectually feigned surprise. “I'm fine. I'm just excited to see what you guys have to offer.”

 

“Yeah, okay.” Sebastian's heart pounded nervously. “That's at all believable.”

 

Kurt rubbed his lips. “It's... It's been a hard day. I've been looking forward to this.”

 

“You're not gonna tell me?”

 

“Not before your big performance, no,” Kurt said in a forcefully cheerful voice. “But I'll tell you after.”

 

“After...” Sebastian frowned. “Well, my bratty sister is spending the weekend with her grandparents. You could come over-”

 

“That would be a _maz_ ing. Thank you,” Kurt said with far more gratitude than Sebastian thought was necessary.

 

Frustrated, Sebastian wrapped his arms around Kurt and squeezed him tightly. He half-expected Kurt to complain that their suits were getting wrinkled, but all he heard was a shaky breath.

 

And then murmuring from the Warblers.

 

“What is this?” Nick asked. “You said your weekend was _fine._ You didn't say it was awesome!”

 

“I'm a gentleman,” Sebastian objected as he pulled back from Kurt, keeping one hand on his shoulder.

 

“Yeah, right.” Nick laughed. “Oh, god, I knew you two were gonna hook up, all those looks, and the singing and laughing at your private jokes, and hanging all over each other.”

 

“Wait, are Kurt and Blaine not together anymore?” Trent asked in a pained voice.

 

Kurt looked back at the Warblers. He seemed to have forgotten they were there while he and Sebastian had been talking. “No. We- We broke up.”

 

“What, yesterday?” Trent said with a bit of a scandalized laugh.

 

“No?”

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes. “I know you were hoping to be next in line for He Who Is Too _Boring_ to Be Named, but if you choose to date him, Trent, we're going to establish some rules. Considering he's at _least_ as notorious for spilling plans and set-lists as he is for his mediocre singing and dancing.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, guys,” David stepped between them.

 

“I just think, like, who would jump from Blaine's bed to Sebastian's _that_ fast?” Trent said. “If they even _are_ broken up yet.”

 

“I said enough!” David snapped, causing every other boy in the room to tense.

 

“I don't owe him _anything_ ,” Kurt said firmly. “And since you haven't spoken to me once since I went back to McKinley, I don't owe you anything either, Trent.” He turned to Sebastian. “I'm so sorry. I should've come after the performance. I just, I wanted to...”

 

Kurt had wanted to see him.

 

Sebastian shot a dark look a the Warblers. “We are _not_ like the other groups. I'm _not_ doing this nonsense. Get in order and do your warm-ups, _now._ ”

 

“He's right. Let's go,” Wes ordered. “Don't make me get my gavel.”

 

Sebastian caught the smile on Wes's lips as he shooed Warblers into place. Then he took Kurt's hand and stepped into the hallway.

 

“I guess I should have expected that,” Kurt muttered. He was blinking hard, as though he might start crying again.

 

“Trent is so far up Blaine's ass, I should blame him for Blaine's garbage solos.” Sebastian cupped the side of Kurt's face. “I'm glad you came. You're my lucky charm.”

 

“Hope so.”

 

“You didn't do anything wrong.” Sebastian stroked Kurt's cheek. “Not in coming here, and not in deciding to date someone after Blaine.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I'm sure it helps to hear it from someone who isn't crazy, though.”

 

“I'm just not at my best right now. That's why-” He gestured to his face.

 

“Tell me. I won't let it influence the performance.”

 

“Um.” Kurt swallowed. “I lost. The election. But uh... someone stuffed the ballot box with a ridiculous amount of ballots with my name checked.” He shook his head in confusion. “And they're probably gonna suspend me.”

 

“ _What_?”

 

“I didn't _do_ it.”

 

“I know you didn't.” Sebastian paused. “I didn't either.”

 

“No, I didn't think you would. Not without telling me. I just don't know what to do, and now my dad is coming down on me because _I thought about it_ and with everything, I don't want to be sending such a sparse resume in with a _suspension_ on it. It's already unlikely that any school would want me...”

 

Kurt shook his head again, and Sebastian brought him close once again and rubbed his back with one hand.

 

“We'll figure it out,” Sebastian said. “Okay? You didn't do it. They can't pin it on you without proof.”

 

“Yeah, maybe. People at McKinley _do_ have a penchant for shenanigans when it comes to voting.”

 

“Oh, yeah?”

 

Kurt looked at him dubiously. “So I haven't told you _that_ one? Maybe the next time we're out drinking.”

 

“Maybe tonight at my place,” Sebastian suggested. “We can just relax. Have some wine. Talk about how insane your school is.”

 

Kurt nodded and wiped away an escaping tear. Then he leaned in and gave Sebastian a firm kiss. “Good luck. Not that you need it. I'm sure that I'm in for the show of my life.”

 

“You bet you are. I'll make it extra sparkly for you.”

 

Kurt chuckled and kissed Sebastian again. Then, he gave Sebastian's hand a squeeze before gesturing to the room that housed the crooning Warblers.

 

Sebastian stepped back inside, frowning deeply. He had to put this out of his mind, at least until they'd finished their performance. He'd promised Kurt, after all. But one thing wasn't going to wait.

 

“Guys.” He motioned for them to circle around. “Alright. We're going on the stage in a few minutes, and once we leave this room, I want _all drama_ to be left here. First, though, I need to make it clear. Kurt and I are dating. He _was_ broken up with Blaine first, and while I might not be the most honorable man, Kurt definitely, definitely is.”

 

He raked a severe gaze around at his Warblers, the boys he'd been shaping for several months, to make ready for this very night. “I don't want to hear _one bad word_ about him. Say what you want about me. Say I stole Anderson's boyfriend. Say I'm a club rat. Say I'm a ruthless man-whore. Say what you want. But _not_ about Kurt. Believe me, he's thought much more about how everyone in this situation feels than you possibly could have. He's as conscientious as he is talented. I'm lucky he got tired of Anderson's bullshit. I'm lucky Kurt was interested in me at all. A guy like that isn't going to stay single for long, no matter what.”

 

Trent shot a look to Jeff. Wes was frowning. Nick shook his head and shrugged.

 

“I personally can't wait to tell Jack,” Nick said.

 

“Oh, shut up,” Sebastian said.

 

“Have a sense of humor.” Nick stood. “She and Amy are gonna be _thrilled_ you settled down. But, seriously. Congrats. You guys are actually a really good match.”

 

Sebastian let out a sigh and moved his head from side to side, stretching his neck. “Thanks.”

 

“Is he okay?” David asked.

 

“I don't know if he'd want me to say, but let's go with, McKinley has no surfeit of idiocy. We'll handle it,” Sebastian said. And if they couldn't handle it together, he'd have a talk with his dad, the state attorney.

 

With the Warblers calmed down, Sebastian led them through warm-ups once more, while David took a few spotlight dancers for stretches. Then, several minutes later, they were on their way out to the stage.

 

As Sebastian took his spot, he scanned the audience and felt something in his chest settle when he spotted Kurt's expectant face.

 

He'd never really understood what it was like to have a boyfriend there for you. It felt... _good_. It didn't occur to Sebastian until after the they'd left the stage and he'd gone to sit with Kurt in the bleachers that he had the capacity to offer that as well.

 

**Kurt**

 

Kurt couldn't get the image of the Warblers panting around onstage to “Harder to Breathe” out of his mind, even hours later. He'd packed a bag at home with the intention of avoiding the awkwardness around his house and conning Mercedes or someone into letting him stay the night, but exploring Sebastian's gigantic house was much better.

 

There were so many surfaces to make out on.

 

He wasn't sure if he wanted things to progress further than that, but after a few glasses of wine, he was sleepy enough that he wasn't able to obsess about it. Instead, he was curled up next to Sebastian on his expansive bed. The television was on, but they were mostly talking, and Kurt had laid his head on Sebastian's shoulder as he told Sebastian all about McKinley's myriad problems that week.

 

These included preventing his brother from inadvertently outing a member, that member getting outted by a congressional smear ad anyway, and at Sebastian's suggestion, Kurt adding bald honesty about his opponents' campaign promises and qualifications to his pro-salad and anti-bullying plan during the “debate.” Namely, most of the other students' promises were nonsense or completely unlikely to pass by the school board, Rachel's plan for book covers was uninspired and aimed to line the pockets of an already corrupt system rather than help the students and teachers, and Brittany and Rick the Stick weren't academically eligible to run for student council to begin with. The result, aside from not getting any extra votes and probably losing a few, was a frothing dose of “Snixx Juice” every time Santana spotted him.

 

“I told her that everything I'd said about Brittany was true, and if she really cared about her girlfriend, she'd help her with her GPA instead of gunning for me. It's true that Brittany isn't even really eligible for class she president with her GPA. She's only eligible for Cheerios because Sue got the school board to change the rules so they could be flunking everything and still stay on the squad. Brittany's failing every class, and no one is going out of their way to help her because she doesn't have to pass to perform.” Kurt yawned. “I _think_ Santana listened, eventually.”

 

“Do you think she'd frame you because of it?”

 

“I think she'd post gross photo manips of me. Or drag my _looks_ and my _voice_ every time she sees me, which she has. I don't know that she'd do something like this. It seems more likely that she'd just make sure no one voted for me,” Kurt said dryly. “So. Success. No one actually did.”

 

Sebastian rubbed Kurt's shoulder. “Stop worrying. I'm telling you, there's nothing they can do based on a sneaking suspicion that it _might have been_ you.”

 

Kurt wasn't so certain about that. The school board seemed to do whatever they wanted, at random. They'd never done anything about physical violence at the school when it came to people slamming him into lockers or dumping him in the garbage. They hadn't even done anything about death threats, really.

 

“You could come back to Dalton. Fresh off our Sectionals win, we're at the _perfect_ moment to work in a smashing new lead.”

 

Kurt looked up. Sebastian was waggling his brows.

 

“Besides, do you really want to go head to head with _me_?” Sebastian teased. “Come to the Warbler side. We have champagne.”

 

“Oh, Little Prince. You've seriously misread me if you don't think I'm competitive,” Kurt countered with a laugh. “I don't care how crazy it is over on my side, or how dreamy you are... The Warblers are going down.”

 

“The Warblers are going down? I don't think so. I'm not the captain of the Misfit Toys show choir.”

 

Kurt pinched his lips to the side and narrowed his eyes at Sebastian. “What you don't realize is that we take that as a complement. You flock with your identical Warblers. We'll bring you something you've never seen.”

 

“What I'm afraid of is damaging my ears with something I've never _heard_ , and something which was never meant to be heard.”

 

Kurt laughed. “Only if Blaine is soloing on all our numbers.” He sighed. “Anyway, it's not a solution to my problem. Dalton isn't going to accept someone who just got suspended for academic misconduct. Besides, I already told you that my dad can't afford the tuition, and while you'd be there... I just don't like the school. The only positive thing there for me would be the French program... and learning to fence.”

 

Kurt moved his hand around Sebastian's chest and held him. “Thanks, though. At least I got to see tonight what it really looks like when the Warblers sex it up. Whew.”

 

Sebastian laughed.

 

“I don't get why _that_ was accepted by the school, but Beyoncé's 'Bills, Bills, Bills,' wasn't.”

 

“Because all of our filth is sung by _guys_ ,” Sebastian said flatly.

 

“Okay. Point. But we did get to do 'Raise Your Glass' at Regionals, and I thought that was the best song I did with them.”

 

Sebastian carded his hair through Kurt's hair and watched him solemnly. Kurt lifted his eyes.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing. I'm just glad to have you here.”

 

“I am, too. I don't know what I'd be doing otherwise. Freaking out about my application, probably.”

 

“You have a slew of theatre credits _for Shakespeare_ , Glee club, French club, actual French proficiency, a year of cheerleading, work experience, and grades that are pretty amazing for someone who's been through so much shit in changing schools. There's nothing to freak out about.”

 

“I'll _find_ something to freak out about. I promise you, I _always_ will,” Kurt joked.

 

Sebastian laughed and kissed the top of Kurt's head. Kurt smiled and wrapped his leg around Sebastian's.

 

“Y'know, I've done a lot, but... This is a first for me,” Sebastian said hesitantly.

 

“You've never cuddled? I'll give you an overdose on that.”

 

“No. I've done some cuddling. But never with the end goal being just... 'Let's cuddle, just because.' It's more like, 'I'll lay with you here for a minute, but I'm really making a to-do list for tomorrow until I can get up and sneak out the door.'”

 

“That's not real cuddling. How can you _fail_ at cuddling?”

 

“Apparently, that's a gift of mine. Like bowling is yours.”

 

Kurt reached for his wine glass. “Uh-uh. Bowling isn't a gift. My dad taught me when I was a wee little Hummel.”

 

“Why bowling? Why not tee-ball or soccer?”

 

“Because tee-ball and baseball are both _boring_. Though not as boring as football. And I got roughed up enough as a kid without flinging myself around in the mud kicking a ball.” Kurt shrugged. “I'm good at sports. I just don't _like_ most of them. Dad took me along with him once when he was out bowling with the guys, and what can I say? There's a lot of grace in flinging those huge balls around.”

 

Sebastian shook with laughter and bowed his head toward Kurt. Kurt reached up and stroked his cheek.

 

“You've never done the _intimate thing_ before,” Kurt whispered.

 

“Nope. With you, for some reason, agendas and plans don't work so well... And I kind of don't need them. I'm fine just...”

 

Sebastian leaned in closer. Their noses circled one another as they looked into one another's eyes. Kurt moved in first, cupping the back of Sebastian's head and offering him a gentle, leisurely kiss. Sebastian's hand moved along Kurt's side, but then stayed right above his hip, giving a firm squeeze after a moment.

 

“As cute as your scheming is...” Kurt muttered when they moved back to take a breath, “I do like the unfocused you as well.”

 

“Mm. Lemme take you to brunch tomorrow. I know a great place.”

 

“Do they have bowling alley hot dogs? If so, I'm in.”

 

Sebastian laughed. “We'll be done before you have to go to rehearsal.”

 

“Yeah, tomorrow I'll be rehearsing all day. First for _Twelfth Night_ , then with Glee.”

 

“I can't wait to see how you play Sebastian.” Sebastian winked.

 

“I'll do you proud.”

 

“You'd better.”

 

Kurt submitted to another tender kiss. And that would be the rest of their night, intertwined and comfortable, with little rushing and no pressure. Of course, later, if their hands moved southward, Kurt would be just as eager.

 

There was something about the two of them that _worked_ , whether they were on the dance floor or at a bowling alley, fighting or fucking. Something that lent itself to shifting from teasing to support within a matter of seconds. Kurt had decided that week that he wasn't going to let any of his internal demons push away his happiness. He could keep who he was, but maybe steal a bit of Sebastian's life-grabbing boldness.

 

“Shut down that busy brain, superstar, and kiss me,” Sebastian demanded.

 

Kurt slipped his hands under Sebastian's shirt and climbed over his legs with a teasing grin.

 

“Okay.”

 


End file.
